Not Just a Number
by KiaraAlexisKlay
Summary: a little drabble that turned into something bigger than i thought.
1. NOT JUST A NUMBER

Title: Not Just A Number

Author: Kristin (aka KiaraAlexisKlaymaker)

Disclaimer: Dark Angel is not mine, it belongs to Fox and Cameron and Eglee.

Rating: PG-13 (for now) due to some language and more mature themes.

Summary: Slightly – okay quite a bit – AU

A/N: This is my first fanfic of any type so don't blame me too much if it sucks. All original characters (Taz, Ashton, Anika, the Lost Ones, most of Unit 8, etc.) are mine but if you like them too I won't blame you, . Possible series?

Not Just A Number 

My name is Max. That's _who_ I am. X5-332960073452 is _what _I am, the soldier, and the child that I was raised to become, but I am Max. My brothers and sisters, my pack, my family named me. I still remember it as if it were yesterday, and with the photogenic memory created into all of us X-5's; I suppose that's just what it's like.

We were getting back from our busy day of training, and it had been unusually harsh, even for Colonel Lydecker's twisted sense of _acceptably fair_ training. I didn't realize it then, only later, that my unit had been special, even back then. We were the experimental group that Lydecker had personally taken charge of, which was one of the reasons we had been so isolated from the other units, so dependant on each other. I don't know why it came as a shock then to the trainers and watchers that we had developed the way we had.

They had us run the gamut of everything we had learned in my six years of life: first there was taps played at four in the morning, followed by breakfast, and then early morning drill that lasted for a good two hours. Then we went into the classes: Strategy and Logistics, Siege Tactics: Survival and Execution Of, Weapons Recognition, Military and American History, Naval, Aerial, and Landfall Techniques, and then the usual Manticore propaganda.

DUTY.

MISSION.

HONOR.

OBJECTIVE.

And the classes didn't even last until lunch, which meant the remaining four hours of the day was spent in various rigorous physical activity: three different martial arts classes teaching everything from tae kwan do to ninjitsu to aikido to gymnastics, boxing, and kickboxing.

Lunch was a brief thirty-minute affair, not really one for lingering, though it was Manticore and _linger_ just wasn't in their vocabulary. My unit had come in towards the end of the usual rush hour, the same as always. We never realized that the other units never did in a week as we did in a day, never realized that what we took for granted as daily rigmarole was actually gruesome work to the other units. We just accepted whatever Lydecker dished out and we never complained like the good little soldiers we were.

We ate our meal quick enough, but lingered to the full thirty-minute allowance. We may have had special training, but we were smart enough to know how to conserve, and we eked out as much downtime as possible before re-grouping for the next round of torture our Colonel threw at us.

More classes followed. Stealth and Infiltration, Advanced Telecommunications and Satellite Uplink, Decryption of Advanced Militarial and Civilian Encryptions (basically how to hack a government level computer database, oh so fun), and my absolute favorite, Common Verbal Usage. There were also classes on 'real-world' behaviorisms that we would have to assume once we were cleared for solo missions. There were also the basic and intermediate Field Med and battle classes, stuff any soldier would learn at some point. We just learned it sooner.

Then came the really grueling stuff. That day we were learning about the various torture techniques as at some point we may be captured by the enemy and put under 'strenuous interrogation' a.k.a torture. There were five: hot, cold, blunt, invasive, and psychological. Some of these are very self-explanatory, as a matter of fact; all of them are if you think about it. Such as the hot and cold – sensory deprivation or overload, depending on the torturer's preference and the torturee's point of view.

Blunt is the usual means of torture, the forceful, I'm-going-to-beat-you-until-you-tell-me-what-I-want-to-know-or-you-die technique, usually accompanied by broken bones, ruptured organs, and the possibility of fatality by bleeding out or internal injuries. Invasive is, well, you know. A lot of knives and needles and pincers and other…. things are utilized in this torture, and goes hand in hand with the psychological aspect.

Psychological is one of the torture techniques in a class and terror all to itself. This one is the trickiest as it combines many of the previously mentioned counterparts and the added blow of your mind being messed with, a double whammy if there ever was one. What makes this one the worst is that so much of the mind and psyche are so unknown, and there is no limit the damage that could be wrought, long term damage that a scar or a bruise or a burn that fades with time could never compete with.

Colonel Lydecker taught us various ways of resisting torture, which of course, meant that to pass the tests we had to actually undergo torture ourselves. Believe you me; Lydecker's little trick of selectively forgetting certain bits of information and memory has come in handy on this one. Memories of my siblings being beat and poked and prodded and ripped open and screaming and helpless are not ones that I cherish or choose to cling on to.

We were a quieter bunch than usual that entered the mess hall that night, after the torture session, and the Tank, and some of the less debilitating exercises such as Escape and Evade or Seek and Destroy, and a few more hours of martial arts. I noticed that night that my siblings were more withdrawn and distrustful of the guards. We were the last unit to be served, and many of the previous units were already finishing up and leaving for their barracks before Lights Out.

The torture session seemed to have drained much of the spark out of us, it had for me I know for a fact, and I could see that for my siblings some of them felt the same. We never spoke or made any overtly noticeable signs to talk while we were marched to our barracks in Section 2, but we'd developed our primal and primitive abilities that we could communicate with a body language that put any of the hand signals Manticore taught us to shame.

I could sense with that primitive part that had been as much a part of me that the animal spliced into my DNA was that my family was hurting. We listened to the guards talk, as we had to wait while several platoons of X-5s went on night maneuvers. There were quite a few, and as we had been later getting in and out of the mess hall, we were forced to wait until they passed to get to the showers.

The guards were talking in quiet voices, ignorant or oblivious to the fact that with our souped up senses we could hear their whispers as clearly as if they'd been talking normal. My unit and me listened with avid attention as they called each other by unfamiliar titles such as "Mike" and "Mitchell". We knew them as Lieutenants Jacob and Abrams. Our confusion was soon put to ease as the guards themselves explained it to each other.

"This is just creepy, Mike," Lt. Abrams conferred with his partner, who kept one eye on us, and the other on the passing wave of Xs.

"I know, Mitchell, I know. I mean they have freaking barcodes on the back of their heads and 'designations' instead of names. Can you imagine, them in the real world? They walk up to some chick or dude in the bar and say 'My designation's X5-123, yours?'" Lt. Michael "Mike" Jacob imitated a small child's falsetto.

Mitchell Abrams gave a snort of amusement, eyeing their small charges of Unit 2. All of us had our eyes straight front as was proper, with that blank Manticore mask to hide our true feelings, that showed that we weren't paying any attention to what they were saying or that we even knew what they were talking about.

"Yeah. The poor sops, they don't even know the power of a name. Just one more thing that sets them apart from us. Keeps us from getting attached, after all, you don't get to know something that's a number right? It's not real, not personal, not _alive or human_ if it don't have a name, ya get me?" Abrams went on, musing.

"Hush, Mike. They might here you, or Lydecker," and there was a healthy fear in Jacob's voice about their erstwhile commanding officer. He might call these freaks his 'kids' but like any so-called parent, he had very definite views on how his kids were raised and what they were subjected and exposed to.

"Relax, Mitch, it's not like they know what we're talking about. All they know is hut one two three, and all that other military crap. These are soldiers, and they aint even human, it's not like they're real."

"They look pretty real to me," Mitch commented as yet another unit of X5s came in formation down the halls. The line of different units seemed endless. Me and mine just waited patiently, it's not like we had much choice in the matter, anyway.

"Right. And real kids are supposed to sit like these are," he jerked a thumb to indicate my family, "without saying a word or moving or nary an indication that they are _alive_ or normal. Ri-ght," he drawled the last word out, disbelief infecting his word and tone.

The proverbial hackles rose throughout my unit and I could feel myself bristling with the insult to my pack, my family, my unit. Not like the dumb-butts could tell of course. We'd learned early on to never show our true feelings to anyone, though in the privacy of the barracks or the High Place we allowed ourselves the luxury of what the Colonel would call 'phony sentimentality' and emotion. But the insult was there, and we knew it, knew what they were talking about as well.

As one we seemed to collectively draw closer, seeking the comfort and reassurance of the pack, even if it was only a few centimeters in actuality to our mind it was as if we were on top of each other. Very faintly I could hear my brother next to me growl low enough in his throat that the ordinaries couldn't hear him. I growled back softly in answer, a soothing type of growl. He fell silent, but as hyperaware of my pack as we were, I could almost feel the vibrations of his now silent growls come off him in waves. Softly we heard the growl of our alpha and commanding officer growl back and we fell silent under his command.

"Did you know Renee is gonna have a baby?" Mike continued, lightly tapping his M16 with his fingers as they continued to wait. It was an idle gesture, one that showed his familiarity and ease. Mitch shook his head.

"No, I didn't. I don't usually talk to the nurses on staff, especially the married ones. She know if it's a boy or girl?"

"They don't know yet, it's too soon and they had it the natural way 'stead of unnatural like the little freaks here. They will in a few weeks though. She's bought like five huge books of baby names, geeze. If I get a kid, a boy's going to be 'Bob' and a girl's gonna be Susan. Real plain and simple and all-American."

The units of X-5s going on night maneuvers finally passed us, and Mike and Mitchell prodded us forward with gruff commands. My brother was now back to silently vibrating his displeasure at the two guards, and I surreptitiously brushed up against him to help calm him down. We were marched back to our barracks and the two lieutenants dropped us off so we could hit the showers at the back of our squadbay, a large 2 emblazoned on the walls as we entered Section 2 where our Unit was housed.

On any other given day with so much free time between the showers and Lights Out there would be soft laughter and jokes and teasing between all of us, but the days events and the overheard conversation had made for a very somber group as we silently stripped and entered the showers. The first blast of the water was freezing cold, and I shivered as I ducked under the spray, watching my skin bump with the chill until the water warmed up. This was my favorite part of the day, when the water was warm and toasty and massaged away all the aches and pains of our training.

I felt a hand upon my shoulder and I saw one of my 'brothers', his hazel eyes sparking with the mirth and lightness that was missing from the group tonight. Just seeing X5-493s lips quirk upwards in a smile at a joke only he knew was enough to drag me out of my funk and unbidden, a giggle came through. I could feel the eyes of my pack on me, and soon, it caught on and we were all laughing and giggling softly as the tension of the day was released in a fit of mirth and the spray of warm water.

I relaxed into 493s chest and the familiar scent of him that underneath all the dirt and sweat and face paint that could only be described as uniquely him. He helped me soap up, giving me a scrubbing that I knew had to have erased every speck of dust off of me. He then turned me around to rinse off, taking the time to sniff just above my shoulder blade, and I gave him a playful slap. I returned the favor, giving him a just as thorough scrubbing. We giggled softly as we groomed each other, noticing that the others were helping clean each other as well. Must have been our animal DNA coming through again, for no one minded the help at all.

We all finished the showers before they automatically shut off and were already dried off and dressed by the time the last showerhead fell silent and dripping. Soft giggles were now interspersed in the silence as they dressed in the flimsy hospital gown style clothes that made up their sleepwear. Tonight was one of those rare nights we didn't have any night and evening maneuvers, which meant that tomorrow would be another long day like today, but that was alright. Tonight, if we were quiet enough, the guards wouldn't bother us and we could have almost an hour and a half to ourselves.

Our alpha and commanding officer, X5-599, stood up at the head of the squadbay and as one we answered the unspoken command and gathered around him. We never made much noise unless we were at the High Place; the only place in all of Manticore that we were sure wasn't bugged in some way. Alpha made hand signals to tell us what he wanted, and we all paid attention.

_ Don't pay attention to what the guards said _ he was motioning to us, and we were all touching the other in some way. X5-493 was on my left side, and my 'sister' X5-210 was on my right, the three of us sandwiched together. Behind me my genetic brother, X5-471 touched his knees to my back while X5-701 had plastered herself to his right side, her tiny blond body seeming to have molded itself to the contours of his body.

Our youngest sibling, X5-392, was only two years younger than I, but yet the pack didn't really treat him like the baby, they seemed to have reserved that spot for me. Perhaps it was because I was the youngest female. I don't get such a sexist attitude, but regardless, it was almost refreshing to see Three Nine Two show that he was the baby by snuggling into the eldest females, X5-656 and X5-734.

Both were beautiful Asian beauties, but where Seven Three Four was the traditional Oriental look, Six Five Six had a dark complexion that proved she had something a little more exotic in her cocktail, perhaps something more native to south and Central America. Six Five Six definitely was the 'mommy' of the group; some of the guards had jokingly called her the den mother. She was the quickest with a word of comfort when one of us was hurt, and she'd also hold us when we had nightmares.

_ They do not know that we know and understand everything they say. They are ignorant, and we know we are real to each other, and that is all that matter _ Five Nine Nine was continuing, but I found myself frowning and it was a look echoed on other faces. Yes, we knew that we were real to each other, many of us had been aware of each other since even before we had coherent thought, but it was also something to know that you were just a number.

_ Not just a number _ I growled as I signed irritably. X5-732 gave a snort of amusement; her dark Hispanic-Mediterranean features an intriguing blend that had the guards and other staff murmuring that she'd be a real heartbreaker when she grew up. She was the most sensual out of all of us, seemingly to come into her own as she had developed quicker than the rest of us females. She was eight years old and already she was as the nurse called it, 'budding'. Six Five Six and Seven Three Four had budded slightly already, but nowhere near as much as Seven Three Two.

Five Nine Nine frowned at me for interrupting his spiel, and I had to fight to not roll my eyes. Really, sometimes he could take things too seriously. I just gave him a perfectly innocently sincere face, repeating my hand signal to let him know I was serious and didn't mean to cut him off, but I wasn't going to apologize. X5-353 put a calming hand on his shoulder and Five Nine Nine nodded to show that he understood.

X5-417, another of my 'brothers', didn't have my inhibitions and rolled his eyes, giving me a smile. X5-205 gave him a nudge, but his mouth was twitching in suppressed amusement. When 353,417,205, and 493 brainstormed together, they were the scariest team Manticore ever created. Our pack lived in apprehension for the next of the foursome's practical jokes, and we had to endure many hours of punishment detail when the trainers discovered one of the plans. We sort of became resigned to whatever the quad came up with.

Luckily for them – and coincidently, us – they had become better at the concealment and execution of said plans. 205 had grinned and told me one time that they saw it as an extended lesson in strategy and implementation of extensively thought out planning. 493 was definitely the creative genius, his imagination had come up with some of the most memorable of the…plans. 205 was more laid back, but you wouldn't want to get on his bad side because his plans usually were very unpleasant for his chosen target.

417 was the enthusiastic one, he didn't really care if he was follower or leader, his versatility gave a certain stability that the others lacked, especially 353. 353 was the wild card, you never knew what he would come up with, he had perfected a blend of the other three's styles and the trainers lived in perpetual fear of his next trick. He had a twisted sense of humor, so a lot of his pranks were dark and malicious, especially for the staff. With all four of them putting their minds on a task, they were a force to be reckoned with.

_ She's right _ X5-798 signaled, and we all looked at her in surprise. The African American beauty had enough of something lighter that she was a beautiful coffee and cream color. Seven Nine Eight was one of the most by the book among us; she rarely did anything outside of the box. The fact that she just wasn't going to blindly accept being just a number was something of a breakthrough.

_ We are more than just numbers _ she continued, and one by one we found ourselves agreeing with each other.

_ We are real to each other. Why not make ourselves real in a way that the humans are? _ Seven Three Four asked us all.

_ Like what? _ 599 inquired, open to the ideas of his unit like any good commander.

_ NAMES! _

_ What? _ 599 questioned me. Beside me, 493 stirred and answered for me, his thoughts as usual eerily paralleling mine.

_ Names _ he replied, his hazel eyes taking on the radiant glint that was so full of life, especially when he came up with a new idea.

_ Lieutenants Abrams and Jacob have names instead of numbers or their rank; even Colonel Lydecker has a name. You heard them; names are powerful and make them real. We need names _

For once, no one could argue his logic, not even 599 or 798 who usually argued against 493s ideas. I could see that most of my pack liked the idea of having names instead of numbers, of finally being real instead of toy soldiers.

_ I have an idea _ 353 grinned as he got our attention, and slowly, we all smiled as the Quad Squad let us in on their latest mission.


	2. WHONOT WHAT

Who, Not What 

It was well past Lights Out, when all good transgenics should be tucked in their bunks dreaming of the next days training schedule, when two small shadows blurred their way past the cameras on their off side rotation toward the med bay. The med bay's doors were unlocked; whether by design or arrogance, it was unknown and not relevant to the task at hand.

I stayed in the shadows, my small body being made smaller so that I virtually blended in, just like we were taught. I glanced over at my partner in crime and caught the slight flash of 493s answering grin. I was the best at stealth, unparalleled in Escape and Evade, and he was the best at tracking, the unequivocal leader of the hunt during Seek and Destroy. Together we were an unmatched team who brought out the best and covered the worst in each other. This mission was right up our alley.

Our mission: To retrieve one or more of the numerous name books that the pregnant nurse Renee has in her possession in order to achieve the higher objective of discovering a suitable name for each of us. The name of the game was Find and Retrieve, with a good dose of Escape and Evade thrown in to make it interesting. It wasn't going to be easy, as we didn't have accurate Intel on the location of said mission objectives. It was a risk just making it into the med bay without a legitimate excuse.

493 gave the signal and we slipped inside the open med bay. I left 493 to his own devices, heading instead directly to the messy pile of papers and books and binders on top of the desk where the head nurse and doctor sat. This "Renee" nurse was the head nurse, and if she took after most ordinaries, she would have left something lying around. Ah-ha! Success! There, underneath two binders on the human genome and a zoological research report. My mission objective was sitting right in front of me. Two books, one thick enough to have been at least an inch and a half, the other had a picture of several babies, one having a thought bubble that said 'Give us a good one, Ma!'.

That definitely raised an eyebrow on my part. We were taking Common Verbal Usage, but certain phrases and colloquiums still confused us. Give us a good one? How ridiculous a phrase was that! Carefully, I retrieved the two precious books, and 493 was suddenly by my side to help. He held the books as I made sure the stack of papers and binders didn't tip over and that it looked about the same as it had before I took the books.

Mission almost through, now we just had to make it back to the barracks before we were discovered. We slunk out toward the doors when our sharp hearing heard the telltale sound of footsteps drawing close. No time to dart down the halls without being spotted by the cameras. 493 and I shared one brief look before we took off back inside the med bay and dashed towards a far cupboard. There was a small nook between the wall and a large cabinet that the both of us managed to squeeze into.

Just in time. Two nurses, a doctor, and a trainer came in, one of them the infamous 'Renee'. They were laughing and gossiping and having an all around great time. The other nurse and the doc and trainer went to a cabinet almost caddy-corner from the one that me and 493 were hiding in, and we both held our breath and hoped to the Blue Lady that they couldn't hear the mad pounding rush of our hearts.

The doc unlocked the usually tightly closed cabinet and pulled out some glasses and a huge bottle of some kind of drink. I used my telescopic eyesight to see what was on the label of the bottle. Chardonnay, whatever the heck that meant, it must not have been allowed from the way they were all carrying on. It was like they were sneaking something, and that's when 493 gave me an amused look and signal: contraband. Our stalwart examples had smuggled some type of contraband, called alcoholic beverage, inside the walls of Manticore where it was expressly forbidden. We both had to hold in our giggles. What they were doing was almost the same as what we were doing from the way the four were carrying on.

"You know, you're not supposed to be drinking this, Renee," the trainer, one named Osborne, commented as he took a long swig of his chardonnay. He gave a belch that shocked us; Trainer Osborne was the one who was always ragging on proper mannerisms, and belching was definitely one of those forbidden mannerisms. 493 and me gave each other wide eyes. This was something we just _had_ to tell the others. As soon as we were able to get away that is.

"Oh, Ozzy, don't be such a killjoy," Nurse Renee snorted, obviously well on her way to being inebriated. "I mean, it's not as if this brat is something…_special_ like Deck's precious _kids_."

"Are you going to get rid of it?" the other nurse asked, as she took a long drink of her own drink.

"Yeah, I mean, we do it all the time here, Renee," the doc agreed, and my opinion of this doctor suddenly dropped. I might have been six, but I knew about babies from the Outside Behavioral Class that helped to explain how children would react to the addition of a 'little' brother or sister's arrival. I also knew that some parents chose to get rid of their baby, a thing called abortion, and I couldn't understand.

If you were going to be stupid enough to do the deed that would create the baby, why punish the baby by aborting it? The cavalier attitude that the doctor and nurses had toward this…innocent child, was disgusting, especially how they had that power of life or disassembling, that was what Trainer Rutgers would call perverted. My brother and I gave each other another look, this one a shared look of disgust.

"I got a bunch of baby books," Renee slurred, shrugging her shoulders. "My guy is under this impression that a brat would be good for us. Y'know, he wants the whole 2.5 kids and little white picket fence and wife who cooks and cleans. I know I didn't spend half my life and a small fortune getting into the most prestigious medical center only to play Suzie Homemaker. I mean, I love the guy an all but kids? Sheesh."

"Yeah, know what you mean. I have four of the little buggers running around at home, and let me tell you, they are a pain in the you know where, _especially_ when they get older," Donna, the other nurse, mumbled into her cup. The four Manticorian staff sat around, pouring each other drinks, and they just gabbed. 493 shifted slightly beside me, rolling his eyes at the mundane and increasingly outrageous topics as the foursome got slammed.

There was a sudden klaxon of alarms and the smashed foursome hurriedly drained the last of their contraband and hid the evidence. As the foursome left the room, 493 and me took the opportunity and made our escape. We were nearly giddy with relief as we ducked and dodged all the excess guards and staff that were coming out of the stonework in response to those annoying alarms. We slipped back into our barracks and were greeted by anxious pack members, and just as suddenly, the klaxons stopped. We saw one of our sibs had a small wire hooked up that was obviously connected to the alarms. How clever.

We all raced to the bunks and acted like we were still asleep when the guards came to check on us, then waited several tense minutes when they left before we all crept out of the beds to group up in the center of the room.

"Mission accomplished," 493 handed over our objective to 599 with a flourish. I couldn't help it; the tension of the past hour and a half had me laughing like an idiot. 493 and I couldn't help ourselves and we were helpless with out mirth. Once we had calmed down enough to give a report, there were more than one-muffled bursts of laughter.

599 stalked over to his bunk and the rest of us hurriedly gathered around, climbing over and on top of each other to get as close as we could. For the next few hours, we listened as he rattled off all these names. The sheer number of names available was staggering, and that was only with one book with over 10,000 names.

"How are we going to choose names out of all that? I'd almost prefer my number," X5-732 groaned, her male entourage consisting of 692 and 698 nodding in agreement. As much as I hated to admit it, I had to agree. But I still wanted a name, I wasn't a stupid number, I was _real_.

"Well, I liked Ben," 493 said slowly, and I turned and looked at him. _Ben_. Not 493, but Ben. I liked it.

"Ben," I tried it out on my tongue, and I slowly started to smile. "Ben. It fits you."

"My name is Ben," Ben smirked, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief and pride.

"I want a name!" 417 mock-pouted, but he was also pretty serious. He thought for a moment. "Oh, what was the name of that pirate on that Disney movie about the Caribbean?"

"Jack?" 798 stated as if he were dumb for not remembering.

"Yeah, _Captain. Jack. Sparrow,_" 417, now Jack, did a terrible impression of the cocky movie star's character. There were some chuckles and muffled laughter at that. 599 gave a groan and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"All right, we have a Ben and a Jack, anyone else?"

"Six Nine Two can be Ashton after that actor who played that vain boyfriend on that movie _Cheaper By the Dozen_ since he's always looking at himself," Two Zero Five snorted in laughter, causing ripples of amusement to run through the pack. Six Nine Two…no, Ashton, blushed but he grinned and didn't protest.

"732 can be Vada, or was it Vader, since she seems to like the dark, passionate side of things," Jack snickered.

"Vader?" 732 wrinkled her nose in disgust and raised an eyebrow in disdain.

"Not Vader, _Vada_," Ashton remarked, giving her a cheeky grin, and it was Vada's turn to blush.

"Vada, I like it."

"In the spirit of the television names, I want to be Seth, after Seth Green the funniest guy on TV," 353 announced with a puffed out chest, causing all of us to groan.

"Thiz iz idzane," Two Zero Five mumbled before he sneezed. He sniffed and suddenly I had an idea.

"Idzane? That's kinda zany. I dub thee…Zane!"

"Zane?" Two Zero Five looked at me, scrunching his face in thought.

"Zane, zany. Zany is like crazy and that fits you," Ben laughed.

"Yeah, Ben, Jack, Seth and Zane," Jack grinned.

"The Quad Squad," I quipped, sending us all into peals of muffled laughter, quickly halted by 599s warning glare.

"All right, in light of such amazing good reasons, I accept thee dub."

"You're such a moron!" I giggled.

"And you're a maximum pain in the butt!" Zane sniggered back, and then he stopped, eyes wide.

"That's it!" he grinned at me, then, put his hand over his heart and assumed a dramatic pose and voice. "I dub thee Max!"

"Max? Max…" I repeated, running it over in my head. Max…not X5-452, but Max. I was a person now, not a number. Max is who I am. "Max."

"These names are all great, but they're also kind of…plain," Six Five Six commented thoughtfully, stroking 392's hair, who was nodding in agreement.

"Tinga," he spoke softly and we all looked at him. "What? Tinga is exotic and suits 656. It's pretty and made up, just like we are."

"Tinga…. I like it. I'm Tinga."

"I am Jason," 798 announced, but 599 shook his head.

"Jason is masculine, and while I have every confidence in your abilities, you wouldn't be taken seriously with such a name," he glanced over at her. "Jace. It's a derivative of Jason, but appropriately feminine."

Jace blushed under our alpha's glance and we couldn't help but notice the pleased look on her face. Of us all, Jace had what the trainers would call a crush on our alpha, and it was as plain to us as an ink spot on white paper. Only 599 would be able to get away with calling Jace feminine. She was notoriously a tomboy, and challenged any male just to prove that girls are not the weaker gender, especially if that girl is transgenic. We all held back laughter, for Jace was not one to provoke, much like 599 in that respect. In my mind the two deserved each other, each so serious and duty oriented.

"Name me Tinga," 392 begged, looking up at his adored sister. "I want something to match yours."

"Hmmm…how about, Kavi?"

"Kavi? I like it, where'd you come up with that?"

"Probably the same way you came up with Tinga," she teased, and there was a feeling of goodwill and camaraderie that swept through our pack.

"What am I?" 210 bounced on the bed in excitement.

"You're X5-332340090210, toy soldier," Seth chuckled and 210 and me hit him with 599's pillow.

"How about John Dee? Or is that John Doe for an unknown person?" Ben mused and I elbowed him while 210 halted in mid-air the slap upside the head she was about to deliver. She got a thoughtful look on her face.

"John Dee, I like that. But that's too masculine," she continued to head off 599s protest, "so you can just call me _Jondy_."

"Max and Jondy," I smiled at my closest sister and we shared a hug, including Ben in it for his part though he protested but we knew he was secretly pleased.

"So we have Max, Jondy, Jace, Seth, Tinga, Vada, Kavi, Jack, Ben, Ashton, and Zane. We have 734, 599, 471, 701, 766, 204 and 698 left," Ben remarked and we all looked at the Nameless thoughtfully.

"I like Brin," 734 said kind of shyly, which was slightly out of character. She might have been quiet, but she was rarely ever shy.

"Brin is a beautiful name," Tinga smiled softly which earned an answering grin back.

"Brin it is then," 599 nodded. He turned to my 'brother' and his permanent attachment. "You two are next."

"Krit," 701 stated, looking up at 471. "His name is Krit."

My brother – Krit - smiled down at her and gave her a nudge.

"Syl, because it's sly all messed up, like her sense deviousness," he winked down at the now blushing Syl. Syl wasn't one for being sneaky; she was just too blunt and forthright. She'd rather resort to physical violence and intimidation rather than sly and cunning words to get her point across, especially if it's someone she doesn't like, which was a lot of people since anyone not pack or Colonel Lydecker she doesn't give the time of day.

"Anika," 204 spoke up with surety, Zane's twin sister, and her shocking green eyes twinkled. "It means beautiful one and that sure as the sun rises is me."

"What about me?" 698 asked in general but his eyes were on Vada. She cocked her head and looked at him thoughtfully.

"I think I'll call you…Taz."

"Taz…it suits."

"Looks like big brother is next," Seth quipped, slapping 599 on the shoulder, the only one who could get away with that sort of thing.

"No, I am," 766 stated, her big blue eyes peering out through thick lashes. Jace may have been more militaristic, but there was an undeniable air of command about 766 that was unmatched by any save 599, which was why it was no surprise that she was 2IC (second in command, or Twic as Kavi had coined it, reading 2IC as **tw**o **i.c**.)

"You shall address me as Eva," she decided after flipping through the second book that she'd commandeered from 599 and had been reading during our naming game. That didn't mean she hadn't been aware of it though.

"Eva. It has a nice sound to it."

"Of course, I picked it out," Eva stated, the soft hint of a smile gracing her elfin features. If 599 and Jace were the harsh elements of command, she was the more relaxed half, and she balanced 599's rigidness with just the right amount of flexibility that we didn't choke on it.

"For our beloved leader, I got it…Alfie, since he's alpha male!"

A chorus of 'Jack!' greeted this remark, and Krit shoved him off the bed. He should have landed on his butt with a thunk, but transgenic grace and a great deal of kitty-cat in his cocktail allowed him do an improbable twist just inches from the floor and he landed more or less on his hands and knees.

"Alfie is most certainly _not_ in the running," 599 grumped, but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes, a sight that was rarely seen as our devoted C.O. rarely let anyone see any emotion on his face, in his eternal quest to keep the pack safe at the cost of himself. And for that alone, we did not begrudge Jack his stupidity…well, not very much anyway.

"What was the name of that one trainer who the Colonel said was the best darn soldier he'd ever met?" Syl mused aloud, consciously censoring the forbidden swear word. She might have been outspoken, but swear and curse words were a line that she would not cross. It was so déclassé.

"Zack, Zachary Vaughn, Master Gunnery Sergeant, United States Marine Corps, Special Ops, Force Recon," 599 repeated by rote, and we could all see the figurative wheels turning in our leader's head. Master Gunner Sergeant Vaughn had made quite an impression on us the few times he'd come to visit, he was ruthless but he was fair, and he never treated us like we were dirt or beneath him.

He treated us like adults and experienced soldiers, expecting us to understand, he didn't insult our intelligence by coddling us. He was never friendly, that wouldn't do at all, especially for a career military man like Vaughn to fraternize with subordinates. But he never gave us reason to dislike him either, he was a wonderful leader who instilled a willingness to serve him. If he would ask any of my pack to do something, we'd gladly do it, no questions asked. He was that kind of man and he had our trust. We knew he did everything for a reason, even the most obscure of commands had a purpose that we would find out eventually.

"Zack. My name is Zack," 599…no, Zack repeated to himself, much like I had. I looked around and felt an unusual swell of pride surround me. Our pack had names, we were real, and there was no doubt that we all felt that much closer and united than ever before.


	3. THE LOST ONES

The Lost Ones 

Tinga lay on her side with Kavi spooned against her stomach, hands idly stroking him in an unconscious familial gesture. Brin was leaning against her back, leaning over to stroke our four-year-old brother as well. Vada was snuggled against Ashton and Taz, her back against Ashton's chest, her neck arched as Ashton stroked her from chin to clavicle, and her legs curled comfortably in Taz's lap. It was a very sensual pose, but there was no hint of the active sexuality that we had occasionally glimpsed some of the staff use with each other.

Jace sat rigidly next to Zack and Eva at the head of the bed, every inch the soldier that she was, her small frame beginning to lengthen out. If she wasn't careful, she'd be as tall as Zack and Eva, whose willow frame had softly budding breasts and just the slightest widening of the thighs. Krit and Syl were attached to each other, leaning against Ashton, Vada, and Taz, their feet touching Tinga and Brin.

The Quad Squad: Ben, Jack, Seth, and Zane were gathered together at the foot of the bunk, laughing and plotting for their latest extended foray into strategy and implementation. Anika, Jondy and I bridged the gap between the four boys and the rest of our pack, huddled together and it was a sight that will be ingrained in my memory as one of the sweetest I'd ever experienced. It was a good thing most of us were still small, otherwise, having the eighteen of us on the same bed would have been awkward.

I felt a moment of sadness as I thought about other brothers and sisters who didn't make it this far, some dying during missions against older X-series, others being taken away with the shakes and not being seen again except as a barcode on a slab of granite in what Ben had termed the Barcode Graveyard.

There had been many more of us originally, a full platoon of thirty-two neat little soldiers. By some miracle we had retained an equal number male and female. Female transgenics were pretty rare now it seemed, or else there was some chauvinistic head lab geek somewhere who didn't like the idea of female super soldiers being able to kick their collective butts.

Several died when we had to play Seek and Destroy with the X4s, our mean predecessors, and others died during the Tank, or the Pit, and one had died on the obstacle course, her little body run to the point of exhaustion when she slipped off the thin plank and falling to impale herself on one of the spikes in the bottom of the pit.

"We should name those who didn't make it so they won't be forgotten and dishonored as just a number. They were important to us, to me," I whispered against the comfortable silence.

"That's a good idea, 4-Max," Zack corrected himself with a smile.

"How many more good ideas is she going to come up with?" Ash teased, and we chuckled. There was another moment of silence as our thoughts went back to the Lost Ones. Losing so many of our own had made an already tight-knit unit into a nearly inseparable force that fell back on each other to an extreme.

We didn't trust anyone or any other unit as much as each other, for wasn't it proven, that the only people we could rely on were those in our unit? Most of the other units had had Watchers in constant contact with them for the first few years of their life, but not us, not Unit 2. We had Watchers, but for the most part they had almost no interaction with us unless absolutely necessary, having us as one large group together, unwittingly helping to further develop the feral and animalistic pack structure that we now held, and the absolute distrust of those not one of us.

We also had trainers and teachers who from the cradle almost were teaching us language, speech, grammar and military concepts. Already I was fluent in almost five languages to the point that I could pass as a native, for I not only could speak it and recognize it, but I could read, write, and understand them. The fact that Colonel Lydecker preferred to keep a policy that kept the units separate unless absolutely necessary had instilled in us a deep anathema to any not our 'pack'.

"Who should we name first?" Taz asked rubbing Vada's back in a soothing gesture. Vada had lost her 'natural' brother to the big X4 mission that took so many of us, and she still hadn't gotten over it. That was another thing. Many of our pack had 'natural' brothers or sisters with us, more so than any other unit. Natural meaning that we shared enough of the same genetic material or characteristics that in the real world we could pass for true siblings like me and Krit, though he was at least a year and a half older than I was.

There were only a few twins, Zane and Anika, being an example, though Anika had been tampered with on purpose to come out a girl instead of the boy and separated into a different surrogate. Because of that little quirk, they were born at almost the exact same moment, though the doctor's are pretty sure Anika was a thousandth of a second faster out of her surrogate than Zane. It was that close.

"Vada's brother," Ben said just as softly.

"Vada, do you want to name him?" Tinga asked gently, reaching over Brin and Kavi to touch her foot. Vada gave a weak smile.

"Ferro, because he never could say 'feral' and he was as wild as Seth," Vada spoke very quietly, and only the fact that we had super hearing could we even make it out.

"Ferro it is."

And so we spent the remaining hours of night time naming the fourteen Lost Ones. Ferro, Kane, Lark, Lara, Nala, Shasta, Cypress, Hind, Nano, Elayne, Kyle, Davida, Briac, and Crystal may have been gone, but they would never be forgotten.

We sat and reminisced about those we missed, laughing and crying and bonding over the shared memories. Ferro's wide-eyed looks of delight as we ran through the forest on a Seek and Destroy mission, his yips of happiness when we caught and subdued the target. Kane wrestling with Zack and Seth, trying to prove which one was the strongest of the pack; Lark singing softly to us at night, putting music to Ben's stories, and somehow bringing them to life in a whole different way.

Lara and her tough-chick attitude that would put Jace's to shame, the two often got into heated arguments but were best friends even when the blood flew; Cypress always seeming to fall out of the trees that were his namesake; Nala as proud as any lioness could ever hope to be and just as quick to defend her pack. Hind as swift as any deer and loving to read about Greek mythology; Shasta the first time she tasted the contraband soda that was her namesake and how it had tickled her nose and gave her the hiccups for the rest of the day to Lydecker's annoyance. Nano and his love for all things tiny, whether they be robots, bugs, travel sized bottles of soap, deodorant, shampoo, or anything else if it was small he loved it.

Elayne the bookworm, who used to spend every off hour in the library reading any book she could get a hold of, especially the classics like _Tom Sawyer_ or anything from Jane Austen, Rudyard Kipling, and the poets Poe, Blake, Longfellow, Frost, Dickens. Kyle and his obsession with G.I. Joe's and comic books, trying his best to draw sketches of such characters as Duke, Snake-eyes, Storm Shadow, and Scarlet. He even did small portraits of the Pack, and we cherished these small reminders of his talent, hiding them in a secret compartment in the High Place where they would be safe from the elements and discovery.

Davida was the tall African queen who would sometimes go weeks speaking nothing but Swahili or trying to teach the rest of us how to dance. Now there was a memory that would live in infamy. Imagine a bunch of child soldiers in fatigues and grease paint trying to do a Massai rain dance. Crystal with eyes so pale a blue they looked like her translucent namesake, and her ready smile and quick wit. She'd tease Cypress endlessly and could pull off a prank worthy of the Quad Squad and no one would ever suspect it was the sweet little slip of a girl.

Briac was always fascinated with building things, his mind at work trying to improve or create better designs for buildings, bridges, and any other structure he could get his hands on. He could not for the life of him figure out Stonehenge, he would always be muttering about angles and inefficient labor of the times, and how improbable it was that it could be meant for anything other than a very large sundial.

These memories were very dear even if not all of them were happy, and it was true, naming them made them seem that much more real to us than a stupid series of random numbers encoded into our DNA. Coming up with the names to match our beloved Lost Ones was half the fun, trying to think about how they'd react and what name best described that particular sibling.

Thinking about them kept them alive to us, and I realized then that they were never truly gone unless we let them that we carried them with us and had been touched in both positive and negative ways. Because of Crystal and Briac failing in the tank, we all did our best to beat the facility record and hold our breaths as long as possible. When Elayne overworked herself trying to beat the obstacle course we learned to watch ourselves and figure out when we couldn't push ourselves any further and to pace ourselves until we reached safer ground.

Ferro, Kane, Shasta, Davida, and Kyle taught us that life was unfair and to survive we needed to be tougher no matter what. The first time we faced off with the X4s, we had had no idea what to expect. They taught us to be more aggressive and to prepare for an apocalypse and expect the worst. The X4 unit we squared off with picked us off one by one and chose five to make an example of, even after they had achieved the objective.

Those were the hardest deaths of all, because they died needlessly and on the whim of a cruel and unstable X4 commander. They snapped Ferro's neck and spine in three different places before even explaining why they were doing this, then Kane and Davida had tried valiantly to avenge and get away and they were summarily shot; Shasta was picked up and impaled on a nearby branch that two of the X4s had sharpened to a fine point, and Kyle was stretched between four more of the Four's until he was ripped to pieces.

Hearing their cries and knowing that we were helpless to do anything would forever haunt our dreams. It was made worse when Lydecker wouldn't even let us help Shasta, so while she hung there, scared and whimpering, Lydecker shot her. We were forced to watch and the only thing that kept us from attacking Lydecker was that he seemed just as disturbed by her death and suffering and the loss of the others.

Cypress, Hind, Lara, and Nano died in the next exercise against the X4s, but this time, we took as many of them out as we could. Lara killed three before one snapped her neck whom I shot personally, Cypress and Hind managed to take out the C.O. and Twic, effectively destroying the chain of command before they were gunned down by snipers that Zane and Ben killed with their bayonets right after.

Nano rigged one of Zane's explosive creations and set off some booby-traps, taking out almost half of their remaining unit. He had stayed behind to make sure nothing was sabotaged and was caught in the blast. Needless to say, we won the exercise with a minimum of casualties on our part, but we had become more ruthless and less open to other units.

The X4s had proven to us that we couldn't trust any but our own, especially if they were transgenic and able to hurt us as bad as we could them. We treat every exercise against other units as actual battle and we go all out, taking whatever measures necessary to not only win the mission but also keep our unit safe. Our unit now has the reputation that we're the ones to look out for; other units tremble in trepidation at having to face us.

Lark and Nala had gotten the shakes, which is what we called the seriously bad seizures we got at times, and they had been taken away. Ben, Jack, Jondy, and I had snuck out trying to find our packmates and we found them all right. Lark was the first to die, she seized so bad she knocked her head on the edge of the table and never recovered from the resulting coma. Colonel Lydecker ordered her autopsied, and Nala put up more of a struggle, literally.

Fierce Nala who had ripped out the throat of an X4 trying to snipe our positions during the second battle fought just as hard not to let her seizures overcome her, but in the end, the head doctor shook his head at whatever readings were on his clipboard from the next round of tests, and Lydecker ordered her _disassembled_. They snapped her neck and then cut her up just like Lark.

Lark who would never again sing one of the ballads Ben came up with, Nala who would never again get sent into Solitary after being provoked to defend a packmate. Jondy and I had cried for weeks afterward and Jack and Ben had come up with a really nasty payback for the doctors and nurses who had cut our sisters up.

It was now early in the morning and we all left Zack's bunk reluctantly for our own, in no hurry to leave the warmth and companionship of the others for our cold bunks. But we had to, for to be caught out of our designated bunk would be an infraction, and penalized by Solitary or worse, and we would never let one another take the rap for our own mistakes.

There was really less than hour before reveille, but we all settled down for a brief rest, knowing that tomorrow was going to be another long day. Somehow though, the day didn't seem so bad, because now we had names, we were real, and there was nothing that could change that.


	4. UNIT 2, GILLETTE, WYOMING

Unit 2, Gillette, Wyoming, Manticore Facility 

**(Oo-rah)**

Gillette, Wyoming 2008

"Listen up!" Colonel Donald Lydecker's carefully projected voice was loud enough to reach the farthest corner of the parade deck, and every transgenic stood at brisker attention at the sound.

Donald Lydecker had spent many years in the military, and this was what his late wife had jokingly dubbed his 'command voice'. In his late forties, he kept himself as trim and fit as his flawed and aging body could manage, so he could keep up pretty well with men much younger than he. He had a full head of dark, thick frosted blond hair and piercing blue eyes that had seen too much and done just as much. They were devoid of the usual human emotions save a cold determination. He had a presence that filled the room so that even before he spoke, he had your attention and you listened.

Lydecker rarely raised his voice, if he yelled it was as much a surprise as anything for the former Army Special Forces man almost never let anything past the tough walls of his perimeter defenses to his emotions. He was hard to rile up, but once he was, you had best be another country away or else face his wrath. It was this cold, iron self-control that was scary, because even when he tortured or punished you, he never became unruffled, it was just business. He treated his 'kids' the same way he treated the adult soldiers under his command, he never underestimated them, especially since many of these mini-soldiers were personally trained by him or under his supervision.

"As you may or may not have been aware, Manticore has four main facilities here in the contiguous United States: Seattle, Atlanta, New York, and here. One of our goals of your training is that you fit in the natural world outside with ordinary humans. In order to achieve this objective, the Committee has decided to undertake a program that will test just how much of your Behavioral Studies has sunk in.

"Starting tomorrow, groups of you will be taken to various schools in the surrounding areas and even out of state, where you will have to impersonate regular human children. You'll be getting an in depth briefing later on for your individual assignments for cover stories, but that is the gist of things. You must not under any circumstances let it be known that you are soldiers or part of the Manticore project. This is preliminary training for future solo missions so be aware: your performance now will reflect on your placement later on. Do I make myself understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" over three hundred X5s responded in chorus.

"While you are at school you will have to behave and act differently than you have been taught. You will be subjected to ideas, behavior, and mannerisms that have no bearing in your ongoing training. You will assimilate and adopt only those traits that are deemed necessary for the mission but they are _not_ to be kept and retrained once the mission is over with. Failure to comply will not be tolerated. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Very well," Lydecker looked around at the rows and rows of perfect soldiers in front of him, and the long forgotten human emotions stirred around, particularly pride in what his kids had accomplished. He quickly quashed these traitorous feelings; phony sentimentality would only make him weak and he could not afford to instill in his kids any weakness.

"Training will go on as scheduled for those of you not in the first wave, there will be a list as usual of who will be participating and who won't. But for now, here is the agenda for today..."

I carefully tucked the information away, listening and computing with half an ear Lydecker's instructions, while my multi-tasking mind focused on what he had said. We were to go to _school_? Please! Already at eight years old I knew more than most adults did in their entire lifetimes of learning. I had added four more languages to my repertoire of what I could read, write, speak, and understand bringing the total up to nine, in addition to the other eight that I could recognize and pinpoint on hearing, which were rapidly getting to the point they could join the other nine.

I was proficient and a master of over eight martial arts styles including the major ones of karate, ninjitsu, tae kwan do, and aikido. I was good at various forms of unarmed combat, and some of the more traditional weapons proficiency, including modern and archaic weapons. Now _that_ had been a fun class. Little soldiers going at each other with knives, swords, bo's, nun chukkas, sai's, crossbows, and other archery implements.

I could read, write, and assimilate college level and beyond papers and essays, I'd taken all the higher learned classes in math, trigonometry, calculus, astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology, advanced genetics, nuclear physics and the like. I didn't particularly care for all the math and sciences though I knew that they were a tolerably necessary evil.

I could hack and decrypt most high-ranking computer databases; I literally grew up on the military and government models. I knew so many ways of killing and/or disabling a person it wasn't even funny. I could probably argue politics and military stratagem all day and night without breaking a sweat and actually understand what in the world I'm talking about. What did I need to go to school for? I was designed to be the perfect soldier; I didn't see what school had to offer that I hadn't already been equipped with. And hanging around kids my own age and mind level; wasn't I doing that already here?

I quickly snapped back into present as Lydecker called out "Unit 2!" It seemed as if the entire parade deck took in a deep breath, especially Unit 10. They had been the only other unit not to have their instructions called off and we (Unit 2) had been due a little Seek and Destroy. Our unit had only grown in ferocity since the night we named ourselves, somehow the fact that we had names galling us to up our performance as if to prove to the guards and the trainers that we were real. Needless to say, the rest of the Wyoming units didn't very well like us.

Lydecker paused in his recitation as if he too sensed the tension in the air. Perhaps he had, one never should doubt the finely honed predator's instinct of Colonel Donald Lydecker. His sharp eyes raked their way up and down my unit, nailing us into place. Out of all the staff, only Lydecker had ever elicited the absolute fear, devotion, and respect that we of Unit 2 ever gave any ordinary. He was the one we truly feared, and the one whose approval we sought the most. I swear when his eyes met mine that they lingered for just a few seconds longer than the rest, but that just could have been my nervousness.

In the past two years, it seemed that the Colonel had a personal vendetta against me. He'd pick me out of my entire unit and he would do his best to ridicule, humiliate, and basically give me a hard way to go, always assigning me tasks that seemed improbable for my particular talents that one of my pack could probably have done better or with far less difficulty. He also took to ordering extra nighttime training for me, a thing I heartily despised as it cut into pack time and nights spent with Ben and Jondy. Sometimes Jondy was brought along as she had the Shark DNA that kept her up nights like I did, but most often it was just Lydecker, a tech, a couple guards, and me.

It used to happen every night, but he eased up since I collapsed almost six months ago. He had been working me so hard and for so long, my normally indomitable immune system gave way to my exhaustion and I got a high fever that could have been so much worse. I had just passed out in the showers, after a particularly harsh training day, and my memory is kinda hazy, going in and out. Ben told me later that him, Zack, Zane, and Jondy had taken me to Lydecker in Med Bay, where the Colonel had stayed up with me all night in a rare show of emotional vigil that surprises me even today.

The only things I remember of that night was a strange sense of being watched over, and it was such an intensity, that I knew that whoever was watching wouldn't let anything happen to me. I dreamed then of a dark, calm place, with the musky scent of pack and the feeling of warm bodies pressing up against my naked form, and it had sent me to a blissful sleep, it was almost like having the pack with me. I woke up four days later feeling much refreshed, and with an eased up schedule. It was no fault of mine that Lydecker looking at me caused nervousness.

"Unit 2 will be reporting directly to Sergeant Major Vaughn for further instruction in Room 15a, East Wing. Unit 10 will complete an all day field day starting with Escape and Evade, Seek and Destroy, and Find and Retrieve. You have your orders. Follow them. Dismissed!"

With a precise turn, Lydecker pivoted around and left the parade deck, leaving three hundred elated X5 series and one exhaustedly relieved Unit 10. The head trainer in charge after Lydecker stepped forward and started dismissing the units to their activities. Being in Unit 2, we were called second and we could practically hear the tension ease out of the other units as we marched off toward the East Wing of the compound.

We had reached the point where most of the guards just let Zack march us to wherever we needed to go, it was so much easier on their part leaving them free to do…whatever it is that they did with free time. So we felt free to briefly give into the small smiles of amusement at our compatriots' relief. We weren't _that_ bad to them, promise. Just because Seth had put formelhyde in Unit 13's shampoo dispensers, or Zane jury-rigged Unit 6's paintball guns to fire little flags that said 'Bang!' when triggered, or Ben pulling the fire alarm in Section 20 and watching them slide down the hall on a floor that had been over waxed by the power buffer (operated by Jack) had nothing to do with it. Really.

Besides, not all the pranks happening around Manticore were our Quad Squad's fault. There was at least one other practical joker in our base, and he wasn't in our unit, though his efforts have drawn the admiration of Ben, Jack, Seth, and Zane. I knew this because whenever Lydecker would throw me into Solitary or other punishment during the two years of hell, I often caught sight of him being punished as well. We'd shared some long glances and brief hand signals when the guards weren't looking or were too busy talking to pay much attention to us.

X5-918, whom I'd secretly dubbed Dante after the man who wrote _The Inferno_ because he seemed to bring to life the seven rings of Hell on the Manticore staff. Only someone who could simultaneously swap out the trainer's shampoo with Nair hair removal, sneak a "_Quarantined Due to Harmful Noxious Fumes Until Further Notice_" sign on all the staff restrooms, and swipe every one of the trainer's lunches from out of the staff lounge could possibly earn that title. He was a mischievous soldier from Unit 12 who didn't seem to fit in with his unit. Not that he was ostracized or anything, it's more like, whenever I'd had a chance to observe him interact with his unit, it seemed as if they didn't know what to do with him. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, and thought that he would get along just great with the terrible foursome.

Dante had these amazing lavender eyes that some tech must have had a good laugh over giving a male, but far from making him look delicate, they just added to his appeal. From what I could tell of the fuzz on his shaved head, he would have a nice crop of dark brunette hair, not black but not too far off either. His skin was that wonderful dark cream that you only get when you mix a little African American and pure Irish together for a truly startling combination. Add his hair and eyes and he would definitely be a looker when he reached adulthood and lost all his baby fat, not that there was a fat blob on his body anyway. Already he had that skinny physique that would allow him to shoot up like a weed and gradually fill in so he'd have a nice set of broad shoulders and cut waist.

We made it to the East Wing without incident and I could feel the excitement that was bubbling up inside of me being echoed in my packmates nearby. Master Gunnery Sergeant Vaughn had been promoted to Sergeant Major, but he was still the same Devil Dog we'd follow into Hell and beyond. Exercises with the Sergeant Major were always fun, as he oftentimes took us with his Special Ops team, giving us real field experience.

This would be the first time in almost five months that we had a class with the Sergeant Major, and we all were wondering just what our assignment was this time because if there was one thing that was certain it was this: when the Sergeant Major comes, we get a mission to the Outside.

We filed into Room 15a with a mix of excitement and anxiety, for 15a of the East Wing was usually reserved for some of the more…torturous exercises, bad memories. The room would be at home in any all-American college, an enormous half circle room with amphitheater style seating so upwards a couple hundred soldiers could fit comfortably. The fore of the room held a blackboard, dry erase board, and projection screen, the best of three worlds. There was also a small podium-desk combination piece of furniture right in the very center, and behind this, stood a man who's ramrod straight posture was a dead giveaway he was military.

The middle-aged man was built and trim for one his age, he put Lydecker's efforts to shame, as his broad chest and shoulders, tight and narrow waist, and leggy length were more at home on a man over twenty years his junior. His skin was tanned a weathered look and his eyes were an electrifying brown whose dark depths swirled and threatened to suck you under if you could bypass the emotional defenses erected from too many years of fighting and lying and killing and doing things that would make stronger men and women weep in shame. Everything and nothing was held in that gaze, a truly masterful mask of emotion that few can ever achieve.

His hair was cut in typical Leatherneck fashion, barely an inch on top and buzzed everywhere else. If I hadn't been so used to it, I would have said his ears stuck out, but since I was around brothers and sisters and trainers who had their hair buzzed in a similar military cut, it was just normal. Besides, his ears weren't that big, they were kind of small and cute; they fit his face shape just fine. He radiated power the way a blowtorch spewed a flame; it was undeniable.

"Take a seat," his deep voice resonated within the confines of the room, and we hastened to obey, fanning out to take a section of the first two rows, nine on the first row, nine on the second, alternating boy-girl just as Vaughn had instilled in us years ago.

"Good morning, troops," Sergeant Major Zachary Allen Vaughn greeted us in his traditional formality.

"Good morning, Sergeant Major Vaughn, Sir!" we chorused.

"I'm sure you are aware of Colonel Lydecker's announcement this morning," he stated without preamble, "So I'll get right to the point."

He came out from behind the podium to stand in front of us, his stance flowing into the at ease position that somehow still managed to look as if he were at attention, and only close observation could tell he had relaxed a few centimeters. His eyes pierced us where we sat, and I felt a prickle of anticipation ripple through my spine, whether from excitement or fear I wouldn't know, as each was perfectly interchangeable.

"As you may or may not be aware of, there are certain powers that be that govern the training of you and your fellow X-series. These powers have declared that in order for the X5s to truly blend into society, it is absolutely imperative that you be exposed to the inner sanctum of today's youth in order to gain insight into the workings of the human mind so that later on you will be a more effective soldier. For now is determined to be the most critical of a human's social and emotional upbringing, and as such, these years will determine what they will choose to do with and become later in their lives; soldiers, teachers, politicians, leaders of the country, parents, scientists, bums on the street…"

Vaughn paused and cocked his head, eyes sweeping the lot of us, making sure that each word hit home and stayed there. There was just the slightest hint of amusement in that last bit, and I was fascinated. It made him seem that much more…personal, real.

"Each of the X5 platoons will be assigned to a different school in the area, spread out so that there won't be any suspicion. You will also wear wigs: this is another of those avoiding suspicion tactics. Can't very well let a bunch of children with buzz cuts running around; that defeats the purpose of not leaving anything suspicious."

"Now you're probably wondering; why the hell is he telling me this? It's common sense and only logical in conjunction with the mission Lydecker sketched out this morning. This is all truth. No one here doubts your intelligence. Your unit is the highest-ranking of the Wyoming units and has from your inception been designed to be Special and/or Black Ops; hence all the extra classes and training that the other X5 units of the facility have not received. The majority of the X5 units will never even be assigned the classes that have been commonplace to your Unit. You are being specifically groomed to take command and be officers, even above other X5s."

"Which is why your foray into the world of America's youth will take a slight twist from that of the others. You are good together, too good as it were. The other units of this facility do not trust you because of that fact. In response to this unwanted development, Colonel Lydecker and I have devised a program which will integrate you into X5 platoons not your own. In pairs or groups of three, you will be separated and sent to school out of state to join pairs of X5s from our sister facilities."

_SEPARATED!_

The word was like a shot in the dark, unwanted, unexpected, and unavoidable. The very thought of being separated from my pack for any extended period of time was like being thrown into the river during the peak of winter: I froze. Once the shock wore away, I tried desperately to control my face and emotions; I could see that Vaughn was peering at us intently to gauge our reactions. I knew it was a losing battle on my emotions so I did the only thing I could: I went into that small place in my mind where I went when I was killing or undergoing torture or performing for the trainers.

It was soft and quiet, almost a hyperfocus, and it thrummed with the life around me. I was more acutely aware of my pack and Sergeant Major Vaughn, I could hear their heartbeats, taste the pulse pounding through them, scent the tang of anxiety, hate, anger, despair, and grim determination coming from my family. I didn't feel anything, only a thankfully numb detachment, a great encompassing void that I channeled all emotion and most of my personality, leaving only the cold, grim, professional eight-year-old soldier X5-452.

Whatever Vaughn saw, it tightened the corners of his eyes and clenched his jaw briefly before his mask flicked back into play and he cleared his throat. A bit unnecessarily in my opinion, I thought maliciously, detached and in control of those pesky emotions.

"Well then, this briefing is just about over. Tomorrow, when you will be assigned to your groups you will get further detailed brief based on individual assignment." There was another pause but we said nothing. That jaw and eye clenching occurred again and I started to suspect that the Sergeant Major might be coming down with something.

"You will report immediately to the High Point Ridge where you will engage in Find and Retrieve against the other units. That is all. Dismissed," He finished brusquely, and if I didn't know any better, I would have said we unnerved the wizened leader. I wondered why. Then I saw just what freaked him out.

My peripheral vision showed me that I was not the only one to fall back into soldier mode. My pack, my beloved family was gone and in its place eighteen perfectly genetically enhanced soldiers stood straighter and as blankly emotionless as mannequins. But mannequins never had that hint of silent threat that seemed to have suddenly sprung out from us, nor did they wear such a startling contrast, as toughened warrior eyes on faces that should still be full of innocence and wonder. The Pack was gone and in its place Unit 2 of the Gillette, Wyoming Manticore Facility remained.

Oo-rah.


	5. BLOODY BOUND, BATHED, & OATHED

Bloody Bound, Bathed, & Oathed 

We were eerily silent, even for ourselves who never spoke or showed emotion during the day, and there was something sinister in that silence that the other Units we passed avoided like the plague. You could sense it in their suddenly frightened scents more so than the usual intimidation, and even the trainers, ordinary they may be, seemed to sense it. Or perhaps they had been let in on what was going on that they knew not to mess with us.

By quiet agreement we made our way with a studied purpose to High Point Ridge where Unit 10 trembled in fearful foreboding as soon as we entered the courtyard. Units 13, 20, and 15 were also present, which was unexpected as we had only been made aware of Unit 10, but that was all right. In the mood we were in, what was a few dozen more opponents? Now, the other units may not have been Pack and as closely bonded as we, but they _were_ transgenic, and right now all their animal instincts were screaming _danger_ and _something's wrong_. They shifted closer amongst themselves, a Pack in their own right, seeking comfort as only each other could give.

Trainer Webster glanced between our units and he swallowed hard. I wasn't feeling remotely friendly, as were my packmates, and it must have showed through. Oh, we came to attention with more snap and intensity than ever before, and it set Trainer Webster and his junior Trainer Cam on edge. The two adults glanced at each other nervously before Webster stepped forward to begin.

"Today's exercise will be a lesson in Find and Retrieve. On the battlefield or in a mission, there will be times when you have to find and retrieve valuable objectives be they information, currency, surveillance footage, hostages, and prototypes just to name a few. To do that, you must incorporate some of what you already know from other exercises: escape and evade, seek and destroy." Webster's voice slightly faltered and his eyes unwittingly slid over to were with silent passion that seemed to alarm him my pack and I waited. Cam cleared his throat and stepped up.

"Today's mission requires that you go into enemy territory and retrieve your objective," the younger man held up two bright red bandanas so we all could see.

"Hide your flag to make it more difficult for the other Unit to retrieve while at the same time setting up a plan of attack that will allow you to take theirs," Webster took back control, having gained his cool for the moment.

"Scoring will be based upon retrieval of the other team's flag, the number of soldiers you manage to keep, and execution of planning. Do you understand?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

"Good. X5s-599 and 530 come forward."

Zack and Unit 10's commanding officer broke rank and marched down the double file, Unit 2 on one side, the other four units on the other so that it gave the impression of them walking down the gauntlet to come to attention before the two trainers.

"Sir!" they both saluted, Zack's crisp and no-nonsense, and X5-530's sharp and professional. The two commanding officers were impressive, physically evenly matched, or so it seemed. Five Three Zero was a combat model same as Zack, but Zack was more supple and streamlined, his muscles evident but subtlety hidden by being in proportion with each other. 530's seemed almost chunky at first glance, but that notion was quickly disabused with the second.

He was big and 'chunky' the way a linebacker or fullback on a football team was built. His body screamed strength and power, and he held his darkly buzzed cut head high and shoulders back proudly. That big chunkiness would disappear later into powerful musculature that would give any pro wrestler envious chills. His eyes were a nondescript light brown, pretty unremarkable for a transgenic, but they gave the impression of authority.

But it wasn't the bodies that set them apart. There was an air of quiet menace about Zack, that type that just blares out he'd do whatever it took to get the job done or keep his family safe. His eyes were pure crystalline orbs, and he practically thrummed with authority. This was a soldier, a commanding officer, someone who _led_ and was listened to, and he had an edge, an extreme that 530 was lacking and truly set Zack apart from the others as not just a soldier assigned a job; he lived and breathed leading his Unit and there was no force in this world that was going to stop him. Five Three Zero paled in comparison.

"Here are your objectives. Units 10, 13, 15, and 20 will head out first, X5-530 C.O. of the combined four. Regroup here when you are finished. You will be timed, so bear that in mind, however there is no set time limit. Time will begin once Unit 2 leaves the courtyard after 530's command is out of sight. Understood?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

Webster handed the bandanas over to the commanding officers and the two saluted the trainers and marched back to their respective Units. The two C.O.'s nodded to one another and Five Three Zero motioned for his unit to leave and follow. Back in the courtyard I waited with my unit in a silent group until even straining with transgenic hearing we could not make them out among the natural noises of the woods and Manticore in the background. Even then we did not move, and the trainers were beginning to get nervous and irritated again, despite the fact they knew we were hopelessly outnumbered eighteen to eighty.

Before Cam could open his mouth, as one, we suddenly blurred and left the ordinaries gaping at where we had been. I didn't question how I knew that at that moment we (the Pack) would move in concert, I just did, and I moved. I didn't question how I could sense and just _knew_ where each and every pack member was, even the ones I couldn't see as we naturally started to fan out and I couldn't see some of us through the dense foliage and the distance between us.

_SEPARTATED. DISTANCE._

No! Don't think that way! I faltered and just stood there, for a moment overwhelmed by the sheer feeling of hopelessness and aching, knowing that this was going to be the last time I raced with my brothers and sisters in the woods as a team, a unit, a family.

_MISSION. OBJECTIVE. DISCIPLINE. UNIT._

The words flashed through my mind and I quickly regained my place with my family. Somehow, I knew that they had reached the same conclusions I had, and we were going to make the best of this. But for now, we needed to focus in on the task at hand. Namely, how we were going to beat Unit 10 and the others.

I came into a clearing and crouched down, pausing listen as my brothers and sisters and family all gathered round, our gaze on Zack and Eva in the middle. Solemnly, Zack passed the red bandana to Brin, one of the more delicate-looking among us, and one of the swiftest climber/runner. She placed it securely around her neck, nodding in response to Zack's tacit approval. But then Zack did something unexpected, he beckoned us all closer, and habit made sure we obeyed.

Eva, at her commanding officer's side like a good second in command flicked out her military issue knife and handed it hilt first to Zack. He made a quick slash on his right wrist, passed it back to Eva who slit the opposite wrist so that when she joined the two wounds, they were on top of each other, her left wrist over his right. Eva looked over at Brin, and her right hand offered the bloodied knife.

Brin only hesitated for a second, then took Eva's unmarked wrist, made a slash on it –wincing as she imagined the brief pain she caused her sister- and then slicing her own left wrist to place on Eva's second wound. She in turn offered it the next one, and Tinga made the marks. One by one we all cut each other and ourselves until it was my turn and I was the last one. I looked up in slight disbelief as Ben offered me his unscathed arm and the knife that was now completely covered in the blood and scent of my pack.

Curiously, I felt nothing save a weird sense of rightness, and gazing into Ben's eyes, glancing over to see Zack's crystal blue ones regarding me steadily, I took the proffered knife and made the slash on his wrist and mine. I offered it to Zack whose free hand took it gently, and finished making the cut on my other arm. He then reversed the hilt in his hand, flicking it, and sliced his other wrist and gently covered his wounded left over my right. Completing the circle.

The moment he did so I felt a jolt so powerful it nearly took my breath away. There was a pounding in my ears and I could hear the mesmerizing music of blood flowing through veins and arteries. I was aware of my own heartbeat in the way one usually does when they concentrate on themselves, but this time, it was like there was a pulse in my head, and it echoed. I realized with an awed sort of start that the echo was the beat of the others heart, beating in time to mine, and mine to theirs.

Slowly, my breathing slowed down, and I was joined in such a way, as I never had been to anyone before. We had become one mind, one large group mind, eighteen hearts and minds united as one, irrevocably bound by blood and love.

_No matter where we go, or how far we are: we will always be together._ It was a silent thought and vow shared by all, and then Zack's gentle removal of his wrist off mine was the cue that the moment had passed. The second Zack's skin left mine, I felt the loss, but wait, no…it was still there. If I concentrated on that small part of myself that was my pack, I could still feel them, still feel that echoing heart beat, and I knew that I only had to 'listen to my heart' in order to sense them. I truly would never be alone again.

We were all reluctant to break such a wondrous contact, for we all knew that this would probably be the last hunt for a while to come. But we still had a mission to complete, an objective to gain, and about eighty other transgenics who didn't really care for us out there waiting for us. This was going to be so much fun.

Zack or Eva only had to glance at us, and when Eva locked gazes with me I swear I felt _something_ hit me and pass through; I _knew_ what Zack and Eva wanted me to do, and we never spoke a word or flashed a telltale Manticore signal. I found myself curling my lips into a smile that resembled a snarl or a bearing of fangs, a slight growl starting to vibrate deep in my chest, picked up and echoed by the Pack surrounding me. Manticore wanted to separate us because they thought we were too close? Ha! We'll give them something to want to separate us all right. This Pack was on the hunt.

Ben and I left at the same time, finding us unconsciously paired together, our movements matching and balancing out each other perfectly. Ben was truly the master of the hunt; out of us all he seemed to be more in tune with the predator/prey aspect, he could track anything and everything. I was the mistress of stealth, none could beat me at escape and evade, and I was so silent even other transgenics had a hard time tracking me. I was a favorite to use during recon and Zack was using this to the fullest.

I guess I wasn't as out of tune with my skills as a huntress as I thought, I smirked to myself inwardly. Together, Ben and I were a force to be reckoned with.

We found ourselves partnering up with Zane and Jondy and I couldn't help the feral gleam that came to mind. Zane might not have been on par with Ben as a hunter, but he more than made up for it when it came to fighting. Few in the facility could even match him, and Jondy was very similar to me skill-wise. Ben and I shared a look of such unadulterated animalistic joy that found we were grinning like idiots at one another. We were outnumbered yes, but suddenly, I wasn't worried about my pack. It was the other eighty who didn't yet realize just how deeply they were in trouble. They were good odds.

The battle was fierce and terrible, as eighty transgenics fought their way to keep their prize and to get the honor of beating the top-ranking unit. But they couldn't compare to the uncanny bond and abilities of the small pack. The eighteen descended upon the eighty with all the quiet cunning of death until with roars of such primal rage that would do any Banshee proud, they attacked. The core group didn't know what was going on, it was only found out much later that those on the edges had been quickly and quietly taken care of, and there were more than a few doctors and nurses worried about the stories that they heard from the wounded.

Stories of howls and growls and screeches like they had never heard, transgenics that moved faster and attacked more viciously than any they had ever encountered, of them being everywhere and defending one another, even more so than previous encounters with Unit 2. Of pain and fear and _oh!_ those shrieks and growls that would forever haunt their nightmares.

Trainers Webster and Cam lurched with fear as they heard sounds that they had never heard in their lives come from the woods and they had once again looked at each other, as if wondering whether to stay or flee. Then Unit 2 had come in, by themselves, bathed with blood, but none of it theirs. The look on their faces scared the two professional soldiers to the point they requested never to deal with Unit 2 again.

There had been such a primitive look of triumph and satisfaction that shone even through the blank Manticore mask, and Webster shuddered as he saw that those masks weren't completely blank. One had only to look into their eyes and see that there was something feral and not human peering out at them, even when X5-599 had requested permission to bring the unconscious and wounded Units back.

Lydecker's blood seemed to stop and freeze as he heard the reports come in, and there were deep creases in his forehead as he thought long and hard, looking from his observation tower as Unit 2 finished bringing the last of the bloodied Units in to the emergency medical vehicles awaiting to transport them to the overflowing med bay. Never had they had to take care of so many from a single exercise. The implications of such things alternately made Lydecker proud of what they had accomplished and very, very, disturbed.


	6. YOUTH OF A NATION

Youth of a Nation 

I stared out the window as the trees of what had been my home for as long as I remembered and found myself with an inexplicable urge to turn back and run for my bunk. I couldn't have been homesick could I? Do soldiers get homesick? If they did, then they were a different kind of soldier with different handlers, because being homesick for this soldier was out of the question and frowned upon.

I was sitting buckled in a sleek black passenger van that could carry up to fifteen people in the back, with a driver who had more wrinkles on her face than I'd ever seen _anywhere_ much less on a person. I had to fight the urge to rub my head, where a professionally made wig sat on my head. It was just my size and the hair color matched my own (or so they say it would have if it'd been allowed to grow) though it would take more than the fifteen minutes I'd had it on to get used to the unusual weight and amazing length.

I had never had hair for any length aside from the standard issued buzz cut. It was practical in that it hid my barcode (when I hadn't had it lasered off). Seeing myself in the mirror for the first time with hair that actually _came to my shoulders_ was just so shocking. Well, it could have been that or seeing myself in anything other than camouflage utilities.

Wearing some kind of trousers called _denim jeans_ –the same kind of genes that we have? - and a black sleeveless, ribbed tank top with strange lettering on it (what is Abercrombie? And why is it in pink and green camo lettering?). A denim jacket the same material as the jeans completed the outfit.

The shoes were something called tennis shoes or sneakers or tennis runners and go fasters, depending on which trainer you were talking to, which branch of the regular Armed Forces they had been in before Manticore recruited them, and who had the most seniority. They had a little black swoosh on the side that clashed with the whiteness of the rest of the shoe.

I was not impressed, though looks from the staff said that I should be. I mean these shoes are so _light _it was like they weighed nothing at all. I kept staring at them because I was afraid I'd ripped them off and lost them without knowing it. They were very impractical, especially if one was going to be traipsing through the woods day and night, or sparring. The lack of weight meant that I'd have to compensate the power and velocity of a kick when a good, solid Jungle or IBC boot would be perfect.

Right now I was on my way to Manticore's private airstrip which would take me and fourteen other young transgenics on our way school. None of my Pack was even in the van; I was well and truly alone. The only other transgenic I knew was X5-918, Dante. He was sitting in the back of the van with me, staring out his own window, probably as alone as I was, perhaps more so. As far as I knew, even his own unit didn't care for him. I felt sorry for him that he had never had the opportunity to develop that deep bond that I had with my own. I couldn't imagine not having my pack there for me, and even though I was alone, I knew that there were people out there who loved me and would miss me if something happened. Dante didn't have that.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" I asked casually, glancing over at my seatmate. Dante gave a barely perceptible start, lavender eyes blinking as his mind comprehended that I was speaking to him. I raise my eyebrows questioningly, reminding the other transgenic that I had asked him something.

"Ah, yes," he replied, as if uncertain whether he should answer. I smiled at him; I couldn't seem to help it, something about him just seemed to make me smile, like Ben or Zane.

I watched in some amazement and some sympathy as his eyes just lit up. Had no one ever smiled at him, ever let him know that he was worth something, that he wasn't just a number or a soldier, but an actual person, and not a screw-up or troublemaking prankster. The fact that I was probably the first person to really see him as a person made my heart constrict and that solidified the decision I had made when I saw he was in my group. I would treat him like one of my 'brothers', one of the pack, a friend.

"Think they'll have Solitary at school?" I grinned, eyes twinkling at the one who often shared my punishments in times past. Dante gave a chuckle as he caught the joke, and his eyes took on a shine, a life that had only been in them when he was thinking of some new prank.

"I'm pretty certain there will be some sort of high discipline developed to curb those…troubling tendencies of developing Ordinaries, that we could bring to their knees quivering in fear."

I thought he should smile more often, he looked less the lonely reject and more carefree.

"You're in the Seattle group, correct?" I asked, purposely ignoring the stares of the other thirteen child soldiers. The briefing earlier never said we couldn't talk among ourselves, and wasn't this extended exercise supposed to teach us how to interact? Why not interact with my own kind, those who I was going to have to trust with my life and cover? Why shouldn't I be friendly?

"Yes, I am," he smirked with a cocky grin that just let you know he was going to cause trouble.

"Are you?" and suddenly that cockiness vanished to replaced by a hesitant hope and a look that begged her not to hurt him again.

"Yep," she grinned again, delighted. She had a friend, a true friend. "X5-452. We were never formally introduced."

"X5-918, and somehow, I felt we never needed to go through all the formalities. What with all our long, lingering glances and quick signs in between 'lectures' from the Colonel and Trainer Webster," he gave a cheeky grin, lavender eyes glinting purple fun.

"You can call me Max," I added, still grinning. My smile grew wider as I saw the confusion cross his face.

"Max?"

"Yeah, Max. A name, not a number. Ordinaries haves names on the Outside, and we'll have to choose names for ourselves…why not use something I like?" I said casually, as if everyone should have known that.

Dante nodded in agreement and I saw some of the other transgenics copy the action as well. I made a mental not of which ones were interested and sincere, not just the condescending disgust that I caught on a relatively few faces shot my way.

"I should give you a name, since we can't depend on Manticore giving us something that actually means something," I made a motion toward Dante, indicating that he was the one that I had been talking to and his eyes widened slightly. The thought hadn't entered his mind that _he_ should have a name.

"The trainers sometimes call me a 'master of mayhem' and 'always trouble'," he stated wryly, with that glitter in his eye.

"I think you should be Dante," I declared with great aplomb, as if he couldn't possibly be anything else.

"In my Literature Class, Dante was the author of a book called _The Inferno_, about the seven circles of Hell and how one man goes through it. So I guess you could say he was the creator of Mayhem," I explained, and the way Dante's eyes lit up again I knew he liked it.

"Dante. I like it," he nodded and I could swear that I could hear the gears in his head turn as he contemplated more 'hell'.

"Of course you would, troublemaker," one of the others in the front sneered, and he was one of Dante's unit mates. At the matching glares Dante and I sent his way, he hushed fairly quick and Dante and I spent the next half hour recounting our shared punishments, gossiping about the trainers, which were our favorites, and I recounted stories about my Unit, the funny things, especially the pranks the Quad Squad did. Dante really appreciated those and I didn't know whether it was a good thing that I gave him some new ideas.

We had just entered city limits, and we were in awe at the sights around us. We saw little children laughing and holding their parents' hands, and they looked so happy. Little did we know that it was a Saturday and that children didn't have to go to school or training, that they actually had days _off_. Two whole days of doing nothing but what they or their parents wanted. Now, we knew what they days of the week were but the whole ordinary social week was something totally different.

We passed the city, a place not big enough to have it's own airport, and so we traveled further. One of the girls in the seat in front of Dante and me turned around and glanced shyly at us both.

"Max?" she asked me, hesitant. I was sort of surprised, it was the first time in a half hour that any of the others had looked at me and Dante since that jerk had made that comment on Dante's name.

"Yes?"

The girl, who's wig was a dark, coffee colored mass of curls, and huge transparent blue eyes reminded me of Jondy and Crystal, bit her lip as she gathered courage and words.

"Can you name me? I'm X5-678, I'm going to Seattle with you and Dante, and you seem nice, I heard you talking about your unit, you all don't seem like the monsters everyone makes you and yours out to be and…"

"Hey, slow it down!" I laughed, holding my palm up in the universal gesture.

"First off, yes, I'll give you a name; secondly, why wouldn't I be nice, and what does my unit have to do with being monsters?"

I had a feeling I knew some of what she meant by us being nice and I knew that a lot of the other Units didn't like us, but _monsters_? Not even the Nomilies in the basement were monsters, just misunderstood, abused, and malnourished. I didn't like my family being referred to as monsters, but I guess I understood where she was coming from. It was just confirmation from and outside source the opinion of the other Units, but by all Manticore holds dear, it _hurt_! My family was not monsters!

"Well," 678 drawled out in a faint twang, where she picked it up, I could only guess. She probably heard it from one of the guards. She bit her lip again in a way I'd come to realize was a musing and slightly nervous gesture.

"Yourself and Unit 2, have a certain reputation among the other units and among the trainers. Heck, after yesterday, Webster and Cam wont' even come near you, they requested to the Colonel not to have anything to do with your group. The trainers are calling it the Massacre," she trembled slightly, and I could only raise an eyebrow, encouraging the girl on.

"And you all never gave us any reason not to think of you that way. The trainers always say that we're being punished whenever we're scheduled to pit against you, and they've told us stories. About how you all kill and eat anyone not in your unit because your DNA is so base animal that there is nothing human left."

I gave a disbelieving snort at that one, and my mouth twitched upwards in grim amusement, but not like it was truly funny.

"They say you keep to yourselves at Mess because you're casing for your next marks," she continued. "And you all never train or eat with the rest of us, and you _always_ win whenever we train together, a lot of us feel you think you're better than us. Always sitting together, never even looking as us whenever we do see you. Or if so, you always seem to be so smug. And then your unit mates pulling all those pranks on us…"

X5-678 trailed off, apparently running out of words and afraid of my reaction. I know I must have surprised her when I started to laugh out loud, I couldn't help it. So much of that was rubbish and absurd, but from their point of view I could see how they could come to that conclusion and believe it, especially with the trainers saying things about us.

"Did I say something humorous?" 678 cocked her head, truly puzzled at my reaction. I couldn't help the smile that graced my features, and I could tell that it unsettled the poor girl more than if I'd yelled or screamed at her.

"Well," I began, drawling the word out in imitation of 678, "First off, much of our reputation is deserved: we _are_ the best. Don't believe me? Check out all the records and see for yourself just who holds them or broke them and _continuously _beats our own. Unit 2 that's who.

"Secondly, we don't train with you because it's policy not to unless absolutely necessary, and even less as we are on a different schedule all together for whatever reason known only to the Colonel. That we have no control over, and because of this FUBAR schedule, our mealtimes are messed up as well. Hence coming in at weird hours before or after the rest of you."

"Foo what?" Dante questioned, his head tilting in similar fashion of 678.

"FUBAR. It's an acronym meaning…" I paused, searching for a non-vulgar, non-forbidden word that would work. "F---ed up beyond all reason."

"Oh…" Dante, 678, and a couple others chorused. By now, I had the attention of at least three others who were actively listening in by turning in their seat to make eye contact.

"Thirdly," I continued, wanting to get things clear. "We sit together because a) Manticore doesn't exactly encourage inter-units interaction even among our won b) we don't appreciate the hostile stares directed our way after a freaking long day of pure torture so sitting with a friendly face or two or eighteen really has it's perks, and c) we've never had anyone but each other to trust."

"We never had permanent watchers like you other Units, we only had each other, and that we're told helped develop the bond we have now. We also faced off against the X4s and believe me, that was an eye-opener. Do you think that after watching another of our unit mates get shot in front of us during a supposedly routine exercise we're going to be in the mood to face a bunch of jealous, bitter hostile others who'd rather kill us on principle of the fact we beat them at something?"

I was really warming up, and I was finding myself get angry. All the years of built up hurt, despair, anger, and helplessness at not being able to do something for the Lost Ones just bubbled up and I needed to let them out in the open, especially in front of those who had damned us on the gossip of a few trainers and some misunderstandings. I hoped by the time we reached the airport and our assigned schools that I would have at least earned their trust or made them comfortable with my presence, being in Unit 2 aside.

"Fourthly, the 'massacre' as you so eloquently put it was just the eighteen of us pitted against eighty other transgenics who we've had numerous dealings with in the past, and not all of them good. Unit 10 made fun of us when we lost five of us to the X4's the first time around, despite the fact that they never even _made the cut_ to face off against them, they've never seen their unit mates shot and their heads ripped off or impaled by the X4s. None of you all have faced them, none of you, except us, and we were much younger the first time we faced them than Unit 3 who just now faced them. Guess what? Unit 3 isn't laughing at us anymore; they lost almost half of their unit to the Fours.

"And let me tell you, it's not fun facing them. We think we're better? Yeah, right, all we have to do is remember when we lost and we know lose that attitude real fast. The Fours are older and stronger and more experienced than we are now, so they're going to be better, but you know what? We're doing our damned best to make sure we don't lose any more to them. Every exercise against you other units we go all out because when we have to face the Fours, they go all out against us and it's really life and death, so we'd rather not get out of practice."

"The other units have said and done some things to have earned our enmity. Yeah, some of my unit has pulled some awful pranks, but not all of the pranks around were our fault or so malicious, and we've never, ever specifically targeted any one unit over others. Unit 13 has continuously pulled stunts and tried to shift the blame on us, but they never try it on any of the other units…all because one time one of us pulled a prank on them. That was only once and a long time ago, and we haven't bothered them again, that doesn't mean that they should disrespect us."

"Unit 15 tried to rape one of our unit mates, several of them holding her down, and _that_ is something that we will never forgive and I for one took great delight in making them pay for that. Ever since then, they have been doing whatever it takes to discredit us with the Colonel, the staff, and the other units."

"Unit 20 is the only unit to even come partially close to beating the least of our records and they are just plain competitive. They've taught us how to fight dirty as they have done whatever it takes to try and get ahead. They haven't beat us, but that hasn't stopped them from trying."

"I'm not going to apologize for giving them what they deserve with the full sanction of Manticore. And the fact was the trainers knew that these units more than any other had it in for us. They were angry and afraid of what they couldn't understand: us. My unit and I stick together because we know that the only ones we can truly count on is each other. If this is wrong we haven't seen any evidence to the contrary."

I finished this little speech grimly, and none of the surrounding transgenics could doubt my sincerity, they could taste the truth in my words. We were all silent for a little bit before I broke it.

"But all that behind, you wanted a name," I paused as I considered the dark wigged female before me. I looked into 678s eyes those beautiful clear blue eyes.

"Evanescence," I finally decided, making a motion with my hand to gesture at her eyes.

"Your eyes, they're so light and clear, it's like looking at a crystal. But for short, I'll call you Nessie."

"Evanescence…Nessie. They're beautiful, though I think I'll get teased for Nessie. You know, the Loch Ness monster?" she joked, and I choked on a laugh. I hadn't thought of that particular bit of lore associated with her name, and I giggled, a very natural sound for an eight year old.

The smile she gave included Dante, and I could see how much it did him good that he was being accepted, finally. I touched his hand gently, and he started, then smiled in appreciation and squeezed my hand back lightly.

"So we have a Nessie, a Dante, and a Max," one of the larger males sitting next to Nessie looked over his shoulder at me. "How about me?" His barcode said 757, a thought I found hilarious as we were driving by the fence surrounding the airport.

"What about you?" Dante teased, his lavender eyes glittering with mirth instead of the usual desperate mischief. 757 scowled at him, but something about the way he did it made you realize that he didn't mean it to be taken literally.

His was a shocking white blonde head that hadn't been covered by a wig. He was one of the few boys who opted to keep their buzzed cuts, as it was an acceptable fashion for boys on the Outside. The trainers called that kind of hair 'sun-bleached' or 'Surfer-Boy' that was offset by his ruddily tanned skin and these electrifying brownish-gold eyes. They seemed to have more gold than brown depending on the light and his mood. His mouth was a tad on the thin side but the rest of him was chiseled as if some sculptor had had a field day on the day that they spliced him.

He was one of the older ones, at least twelve or thirteen, possibly one of the firstborn, like Zack, Seth, and Tinga. He carried himself with the same easy grace that my older brothers did, and in some ways, he reminded me of Eva. Naming him would be a little more difficult.

_Hmmm…_ I thought, cocking my head. _I need to get away from the "e's", most especially the Evans. That way we avoid confusion later on._

"Well," 757 quipped as the driver, who had been ignoring us as if we weren't even there took a turn to go directly on the tarmac. We all kind of watched as we drove toward a series of planes of varying sizes.

"I am the oldest in the van, and since I am going to be the Commanding Officer and rock of the Wyoming bunch going to Seattle, it only stands reason that I be assigned a name as well," he smiled, golden brown eyes sparkling.

"I don't know what to call you," I confessed, and looked to Dante for help.

"What? The name game is yours, little sister."

"Thanks a lot," I grumbled good-naturedly as the van pulled up in front of one of the smaller jets. We erased any evidence that we had been talking from our faces as the van's door was opened by a sour-faced trainer.

"Let's move! Hut, hut, hut!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" we chorused as we ran and came into a single file line, training taking over as we waited for disbursement. I felt the distinctive chill in the air that foretold of winter to come, and suddenly, I was glad I was leaving the state. If the entire Wyoming was as bad in the winter as our little town of Gillette, then I was thanking my lucky barcode that I wouldn't have to face that chilling winter. I could only pray to the Blue Lady that my siblings wouldn't have to face it. Or if so, let them be the ones who didn't mind the cold so much, like Zack or Jace or Ashton.

"All right, listen up, you little freaks! When I read off your designations, get your gear and board the plane behind me: X5-757, X5-918, X5-678, and X5-452. Get your gear and let's go!"

I rushed to get my gear, as I was the last to be called, marching up the boarding ladder, feeling my stomach twist in a bundle of nerves and excitement. This would be only the fourth time I'd ever been on a plane and the first one without any of my siblings. I hastily stowed my gear in the proper place and took my seat, sharing a row with Dante once again. His eyes shown with quick mirth that I answered before we both put on our soldiers faces as the trainer came in.

He still looked as if he'd swallowed something sour like a lemon or a prune or grape. While he was distracted with the female flight attendant, I signaled "Pruney" to Dante and pointed at the trainer, indicating it was his new name. Dante smirked and we tried not to laugh as the trainer remembered he had charges and stopped flirting long enough to give us a sour-faced glare.

"All right you's freaks," he growled out, giving the impression of extreme pissed-offness. "I'm Sergeant Walters and I'm going to be your handler until we reach Seattle where you meet your permanent handlers for the duration of this exercise. X5-757 is CO and X5-452 is S.I.C. of this little pathetic excuse for a detail. There will be no talking and no problems on this plane ride, hear me?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"It's going to be a long six hours, so no talking, no disturbances, and you'll get one meal halfway through. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Good." With that, ole Pruney sat back down at the front seat, laughing and chatting up with the flight attendant. The four of us looked at each other, and Nessie rolled her eyes, and 757, who I'd finally decided to call Petra, shook his head. Dante was shaking beside me with suppressed laughter. He made the motion of Walter's new name, and Nessie choked trying not to laugh.

Walters looked back once but we were stoic faced as if nothing had happened. He gave a slight frown, but turned back to the flight attendant who was already passing him a drink, something called a double martini, that apparently he wasn't supposed to have until later in the afternoon or at all while he was 'on the job'.

"Ah, these little freaks don't know any better and besides, they won't tell. I'll order them not to, and that'll be that." Walters shrugged off the flight attendant's concern, and she wasn't too upset, she just kept bringing him drinks and showing off her ample cleavage. It was disgusting to watch him practically grope her whenever she came around, and her fake laugh was high pitched and grating on the ears.

I thrilled as the plane taxied toward the runway we were to take off from, and I tensed with expectation as the engine changed pitch to whining crescendo and we were barreling down the runway. The take off was always my favorite, though if we were parachuting than that was fun as well. I couldn't help but give a slight gasp of appreciation and Dante shared a companionable smile with me. He liked them too it seemed.

We spent the next few hours signing back and forth with each other when neither Pruney nor Tabitha, the flight attendant was looking, which was fairly often as they seemed to be more interested in touching each other than paying attention to their charges. Petra liked his new name, and he and Nessie were soon involved in a game of chess, made much the more challenging as they had to visualize the moves and positions of their pieces in their mind, and make sure they weren't spotted the times that Walters and his lady deigned to look back and yell at us, even if we weren't doing anything wrong.

Dante had shut his eyes and was fast asleep, though I knew that he'd be awake in a heartbeat, as even the heavy sleepers had learned to nap on the edge. So I was left to myself, and fortunately Dante had given up his window seat to me, so I stared at all the landscape passing underneath us, and I marveled. This world outside was so big, so vast, and it was still the same country, our country, the United States of America. And there were so many people; it was just amazing that we all could live together.

I looked down at all this beautiful country and I felt a sudden longing to share it with my family. My family, my pack, and the thought made my eyes started to glitter with a sudden onrush of tears that I refused to let fall. Petra, Nessie, and Dante were great, but they hadn't truly become my family yet, and I brushed a strand of the wig (real hair donated by a real girl somewhere) out of my face and tucked it behind my ear in an idle gesture that was fast becoming a habit.

I closed my eyes to the stunning vista before me, the pang of being alone nearly overpowering, and I took a deep breath to calm myself down…slowly letting it out on the ten count. I repeated the breathing cycle a few times, bringing myself to that place of calmness, and then I reached to that second heartbeat in that place I held my family in.

_Flash_

_Krit looked up from his seat by the window of a bus, his eyes looking upwards as if he could truly see me there and he smiled, his mouth forming one word: Max._

_Flash_

I opened my eyes in surprise, blinking. It had felt so real, as if he had been right here with me. I glanced over and saw that Dante was still napping and Petra and Nessie were still enjoying their mind exercise, only a few seconds had passed. I settled back down, looked out the window again, re-did my breathing, and closed my eyes, concentrating on my family again.

_Flash_

_Jondy was scowling at one of the boys sitting next to her who was giving her a dirty look. I could almost see the look she gave him; it was the one that said 'don't mess unless…' and I felt my lips curve into a smile as the boy's glare gave way to a more frightened one. A giggle threatened to break out and Jondy turned from her staring match – she had won, naturally- to look up at me. Her entire face lit up with delight and surprise. _

'_Max,' she called, this sister who was as much a part of me as Krit was. She wasn't really my twin, but we shared the same shark DNA that kept us up for most of the night every night and we had developed a special bond between the two of us. Like mind, like interests, but she took more reckless chances than I did, my more aggressive tendencies seeming to channel into her, and her calm and focus into me. Together, we were like one spirit._

'_Jondy,' I answered, and I felt the presence and scent of my sister and I was soothed. It smelled like days running in the forests, of earth and leaves and that special scent that could only be described by the name of one person; Jondy. Her presence seemed to seek me out, and wrap its essence around my heart, and I felt warm in her love and devotion. _

_Flash_

_Zack held himself in his normal rigid posture, unconsciously mimicking and combining the stances of his two idols, Colonel Lydecker and Sergeant Major Vaughn. He was by himself as well, but unlike the rest of us, that never truly bothered Zack. Oh, he would watch and take care of us, but he always focused in on the mission, the objective._

_The transgenics who surrounded him on his plane were in some awe, fear, and a great deal of respect. This was X5-599, the C.O. of Unit 2, and the prime example of what a real soldier was, someone all X-series should look up to and become. A few of the girls simpered at him, but he paid no mind. His thoughts were reeling with tactics and technical details, worrying about each of us, like a good commander should._

'_Zack,' I called to my alpha and his eyes snapped forward to meet mine, his translucent gaze hard in its intensity, his nostrils scenting the air in front of him. His mouth suddenly twitched in his facsimile of a smile and his eyes said the unspoken words and emotions._

'_Max,' he replied, his scent strong and overpowering, and I knew that I was safe._

_Flash_

'_Max,' an unforgettable voice called to mine instead of the other way around with a strength I could nots, would not ignore. My eyes flew to the side and I met a familiar hazel-eyed gaze. I could still feel Jondy in my heart, and Krit on my mind, and Zack held my well being; but Ben, Ben held my soul and never let it go. He opened his arms out to me and I walked gladly into his embrace._

_As he held me close, my ear pressed against his chest, I listened to it go thump-thump, thump-thump, and it steadily gained in volume. Ben pulled me closer, his arms around me, one hand stroking my back in the way he always did, and I put my nose in the crook of his neck, our favorite position, scenting him, marking him as my own and him doing the same as he rubbed his cheek over my hair and head._

_Through Ben, I could scent not just him, but the rest of my pack. Tinga and Taz were together on a plane headed east; Brin and Kavi were together, a fact that relieved us all. None of us had wanted for Kavi to be left alone, he was the most fragile of us all. Vada was busy flirting and causing havoc among her male cohorts and a few jealous females; Ashton was on a bus that was going to one of the local schools a couple hours away from Gillette._

_Seth was with Syl and Eva, they were in separate sections of the bus, but they were together nonetheless. Jace and Jack were together in a bus going further south, _that_ was an interesting combination, I found myself smiling and Ben's smirk echoed my own devilish glee in that pairing. Those two were a volatile combination, but they'd be the first one to throw a punch if one of the other was in trouble._

_Zane and Anika, our resident twins, were together, their cover as twins fittingly. They were also on a plane headed east, but it seemed it was going southeast, not northeast like Tinga and Taz._

"_We're family and we will never be apart. We will find each other one day, and be together again, whether here or in the Good Place," Ben spoke, and I didn't doubt that the others heard. _

"_I love you," I whispered to my family, and they answered back. Their images gradually faded but I could still taste their individual scents on my tongue. I was left still wrapped in Ben's arms, our souls beating together in an unchained melody._

"_We'll find each other when this is over," my freckle faced pack brother promised and I smiled at him from the depths of my core. _

"_I know." I hugged him again, and he nearly crushed me to him. "I love you, Benji."_

"_I know, Maxie," he teased, kissing my forehead softly. _

_Flash_

"Max…Max, are you okay?" I started, and my eyes flew open, body tensing for fight or flight, this time choosing to fight. My eyes caught the concerned lilac gaze of Dante, and I realized that I had lost track of the time. He had been talking in the low tone that only other transgenics could pick up, and I could see that Petra and Nessie had finished their game and were looking at me as well with just as much concern.

"I, I'm fine. Thank you, why do you ask?" The affects of the mind meld still had me a bit fuzzy on the edges and I was feeling a bit slow on the uptake. Understandable, as that was the first time any of us had tapped into that level of awareness for each other.

"Your scent changed," Dante stated with a frown, his eyes still concerned and obviously not believing I was just 'fine'. I blinked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your scent changed," he spoke again, his voice urgent, but he kept his voice down in the sublevel, gaze flicking toward Pruney who was once again groping Tabitha and on his umpteenth martini. Tabitha looked as if she'd had a few herself, probably sipping off of Pruney's.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he gave me a 'look' and I had the grace to blush and turn my gaze away.

"How did you do that?"

"I was thinking of my family. My unit," I explained, looking over to the other two who were avidly listening in.

"We consider ourselves a family. I was thinking about them, and I had this weird dream that I could see and smell and hear and talk to them. It was so real. I can still smell them."

"So can we," Dante said grimly, nostrils flaring as he took in my scent. I didn't know that my own scent had changed. I sniffed myself and I was immediately assaulted by the smells of my family; the combined scents that was Pack.

It was home and warm naked bodies piled onto Zack's bed, listening to Ben's stories, extra training in the gym with Jondy at night when nobody else was awake, laughing and groaning as Jack, Zane, and Seth pulled some stunt on the trainers, Jace being so rigid to be such a perfect match for Zack but getting all excited and 'girly' when she learned a new slang, Eva humming one of Lark's little tunes, Tinga and Brin teaching Kavi one of Davida's dances, mother-henning the poor boy. It carried the scent of all of us, the Lost Ones included, and it was safety, health, comfort and love all mixed in one.

"We are Pack; family. And nothing, not even Manticore or distance is going to keep us apart," I smiled at my three new friends with such peace and contentment they stared at me in open wonder. "I carry them with me, here," I pointed to my heart.

"Lucky," was all Dante said and then a loud laugh caused us to look ahead as Tabitha came down the aisle, face flushed and blouse askew. She giggled as she caught our gazes and sauntered to the back, where we could hear her banging and clanging in the galley.

"Lunch is ready!" she giggled again, serving us pre-packaged airline food that was, if possible, worse than any field rations or mush that Manticore produced. We four transgenics gave each other dubious glances at what was supposed to be chicken breast, before digging in. Hey, Manticore created us to be virtually immune to biological and chemical warfare; we couldn't be poisoned, right? At least, we weren't supposed to, here's hoping they hadn't screwed that up along with our seizures, I thought as I took the brave first bite.

"These little thangs are supposed to be the youth and shining hope of our nation?" Tabitha laughed aloud as she brought sodas down, which we refused in favor of water. We tried not to look at her, but she was so disgusting, I could smell the reek of alcohol and arousal on her, it turned my stomach. She touched the side of Dante's face, stroking one hand up and down the smoothness of his cheek, and she smiled drunkenly.

"So soft…such pretty purple eyes," she chortled, humming to herself in pleasure. She didn't see that behind her back, Nessie and Petra were giving her the most chilling eyes that I'd ever seen, and that she was digging herself in. For my part, I had to make sure she couldn't see my distaste, and my thigh very surreptitiously brushed against Dante's stiffened body.

It seemed to calm him down some, but he was still stiff, and refused to eat another bite, finding it hard to swallow what was already in his mouth. He was reacting as if she were the predator, staying still so as not to draw anymore attention to him than necessary, and the assumption was correct to a certain degree. I felt a growl tickle the back of my throat that I tried to quell as my protective instincts raised to the fore. Good thing she wasn't transgenic, or else she'd have heard three distinctive growls rise in warning.

"Tabitha!" Pruney sang from the front, his shirt untucked in a manner most unbecoming of an enlisted armed force man, and sloppy looking. His eyes were starting to glaze over, but there was a look in them that said this was a man who still had some control left over, and he wouldn't cross that line just yet into total inhibition. That was the scariest thing of all.

"Yes, Walters, dear," she slurred, obviously not able to hold her liquor like her companion.

"I need some servicing ma'am," he leered at her in open lust, and the lady laughed as if it was the wittiest thing a man had ever told her.

"Servicing," she giggled in an air-headed manner. "I just _bet_ you do. Hold on a sec whilst I put these away."

Thankfully she pulled away and stopped caressing Dante, but we all didn't sigh with relief until the two adults sashayed up towards the first-class section and Tabitha drew the drapes.

"Can't let y'all see anything, no matter how much he says you won't tell," she laughed. " I like to 'service' my men in some semblance of privacy," and then we were left alone.

"Great Manticore above," Nessie murmured as we all tried to ignore the sounds coming from the front. But with our enhanced senses, that was nearly impossible.

"Well, at least we're the youth of a nation, and not them, shaping the rest of the world," Petra mused.

"Too bad we get stuck with their mess," Dante mulled over and we couldn't agree more.


	7. HOME IS WHERE THEY TELL YOU IT IS

Home Is Where They Tell You It Is 

Sergeant Walters and Ms. Tabitha were in tiptop shape when we arrived at the small private airport outside the Seattle limits. By the time we landed, his uniform was freshly pressed and he didn't look as if he'd boozed and whored nearly the whole trip over. Tabitha for her part was in a new blouse and if she was a little flushed around the edges, well, she did her make-up just right didn't she?

Petra, Nessie, Dante, and I hustled off the plane behind Pruney, eh, Sergeant Walters and marched off to an awaiting vehicle Walters called a 'damn minivan'. I didn't see anything damning about it; a model called a Ford Windstar, it had padded seats, individual heating and air conditioning, and a dvd/cd player.

Walters grumbled as he got in the driver's seat, ordering us to 'belt-up' and cursing in an impressive display as we four looked at each other blankly, trying to figure out the unfamiliar order. He showed us how to use the seat harnesses, which they really weren't, as they only had one strap instead of two, an unsafe feature to be sure.

"Super-soldiers my furry rear end," Walters groused, setting the van into gear, waving to Tabitha, and tearing away from the plane.

"Don't even know what a friggin' seat belt is…like teaching a chil-"

I smirked as I watched Pruney remember that we were children. With some more cursing (I was learning a lot of the forbidden words) he slammed in one of the CD's. The sounds of Leonard Skynard's _Stairway to Heaven_ blared out of the speakers. I fought not to wince as the sounds assaulted my supersensitive hearing, but Pruney was oblivious, tapping on the steering wheel in time with the beat, humming the words under his breath.

Dante snorted softly, a sort of grunting sound, he wasn't too impressed and his eyes twinkled with what I realized was another prank.

_NO!_ I signaled to him frantically. _Not right now, not with HIM._

Dante pouted, his lilac eyes and full lips pouting, but he listened to me, surprisingly. That was something that had me thinking, hard. Even Petra seemed to listen to me, and he was supposed to be the C.O. on the mission, not twic. Were they listening to me because they were afraid I'd go all monster on them, or did they actually respect me as a leader? Me, a leader…. who did I look like, Zack or Jace?

We were coming out of the rural areas and into the edge of the city limits. This was a lot more fascinating than seemingly miles of endless homes and businesses. Some of the architecture was just amazing; some of them were like seeing a page right out of history with all the tall, arresting cathedrals and staggering skyscrapers.

My eyes were drawn to a large structure that seemed to rise above everything else; it brought one's attention for the sheer immensity and unusual design as anything else. I gave a gasp of appreciation and wonder.

"What's that?"

"No talking!" Walters snapped, making me realize that I'd spoken aloud.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

We stopped in traffic and I still had a great view of that imposing formation. Pruney was still glowering, but he surprised us all, even himself I think, when he answered my question.

"That's the Space Needle, six hundred and twenty five feet straight up, you can see for miles," he admitted, glancing over himself to see the monument.

"There's a gift shop and restaurant up top, one of the biggest tourist attractions of the entire state and city. Like Starbucks," he grinned suddenly, pulling forward to go with the flow.

"If you're lucky, the school you're assigned to might take you there on a field trip."

I didn't know what a field trip was, but if it let me see that impressive building the Space Needle up close, then I most definitely wanted to go on one. Something about it seemed to call to me; I wondered what it would be like to be on top of the world, or on top of Seattle at least.

We finally arrived at our destination, a modest looking set of apartments that was to be our home for the next one hundred and ninety five days. Ten of those days were not to be part of the school year proper; five at the beginning to prepare our cover story and get us familiar with some aspects of the outside world before turning us loose in the school and five more after the year end for detox and debriefing before our redeployment to our Manticore in Wyoming.

"C'mon kids, let's hustle!" Walters suddenly called out in a fake, cheery voice. Must have been his cover, I thought uncharitably as I grabbed Dante's bag and tossed it to him, seeing that Petra was handing Nessie hers, and we both glanced at each other as we grabbed our own gear and ambled after our now-beaming handler up a sidewalk.

We walked up the outside stairway access, heading up to the second story. The roof of the apartment building looked like a halfway finished third story, but it wasn't. It was one of those faux stories that gave the impression there was another level. He led us to the end of the gangway and stopped at the last door long enough to pull out a key card and open the door.

There were two people in the living room area, a man and a woman. The woman had this deep, flaming red hair that I somehow always envisioned Jondy as having if she'd ever be allowed to grow her hair out. She had a pair of glowing emeralds for eyes that glittered like precious gems in light, and a pert little nose on her peaches and cream complexion. She was dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a green camisole with an overshirt that matched her eyes and did a good job setting off her skin and hair.

Her male counterpart was just her opposite. His skin was that light mocha mix that you only get when you have a parent who's white and the other dark. His eyes must have come from his white parent because they were a greenish-gray rarely sported by anyone dark. He sported a shock of deep brunette hair that had just enough curl and kink to it that shouted out darker half. A very attractive man and he wore charcoal colored cargo pants paired with a silvery sheer button up shirt halfway undone, a slate gray silky shirt underneath and dark colored shoes.

"This is Amanda Ferrell and her partner Wes McCabe. They're going to be your handlers for the next school year, your Manticore contacts when you have to report to Director Renfro of the Seattle facility in person or if you need to see a doctor. They will give you your personal assignments and you will obey them to the letter, understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Wes, Amanda, they're all yours."

Then Sergeant Walters walked out after turning over the minivan keys to the female, Amanda, picking up another set of keys for an apparently sportier car from the pleased look on his sourpuss face, and he was gone. There was a moment of silence that followed, as we didn't know what to do next. I just stood there at the position of attention waiting for my next orders.

Each handler was different, as I'd had several already, due to my unit's unique training. Some were fairly laid back, and others demanded that you keep to the rigid code set by Manticore. Until I knew which category my newest handlers were, I wouldn't give them any reason to report me for dereliction, and I noticed with some satisfaction that the others followed my lead.

"Well, now," Amanda drawled with a twang more pronounced than Nessie's had been. Hers was the real deal.

"Look's like y'all is stuck wit me and Wes, huh."

She stopped and looked at us all standing at perfect attention, shaking her head for some reason, sending that mass of curly, vibrantly red hair swishing around her shoulders. The action made me acutely aware of my newfound hair length and I had the most unbelievable urge to shake my own hair in response.

"First off, ya don' hafta stand so stiff unless ya'll is reportin' to Director Renfro. So…what is theta term I'm a lookin' fer? Ease…easy…. at rest, at ease! At ease, kiddies!"

I relaxed my posture slightly, tucking my hands into the small of my back, spreading my feet shoulder width at twelve inches exactly, and waiting for my next orders. Dante flanked my right, Petra my left, and Nessie was on Dante's other side, in descending rank order.

Wes and Amanda exchanged looks, lips twitching in a curious mix of amusement, pity, and dismay.

"This is going to take a lot of work," Wes spoke for the first time, a glint in his eyes that reminded me sharply of Dante or the Quad Squad. My eyes narrowed slightly as I took closer inspection of my current superiors.

While Amanda and Wes looked like civilians, the way they held themselves spoke of some training that was reminiscent of military as if they'd trained with them, but their relaxed manner suggested something that didn't require them to such a rigid code of conduct. Intelligence agents, or assassins, I mused as I took in Wes's stance and the set of his clothes, now that I was looking for weapons I could see just the slightest break that suggested a shoulder holster, and possibly another holster in the opposite shoulder for a cross draw.

I'd worked with a few once before last year, when on a mission with Sergeant Major Vaughn. There were a few Special Forces and federal officials I'd met, and these two had that dangerous edge about them that no civilian could ever match. That indefinable something that said while they'd laugh and joke with you at any second they would become this dark, dangerous predator given the proper stimuli.

_Should have known Manticore would never let us go completely unsupervised,_ I thought wryly, and with a touch of admiration, much as I hated to admit it. Being under the supervision of Manticore staff was one thing; being under the supervision of federal and espionage agents working for Manticore was a whole other ball game. These agents were more unpredictable, hence their appeal and danger.

"So, let's see who we got. I'm assuming ya to be the big man in charge, X5-757," Amanda surmised as she stood in front of Petra.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," Petra answered, but he didn't shout it, which was a vast improvement I thought. I watched Amanda warily from the corner of one eye while looking at her partner with the corner of the other. I didn't know what I was going to do if she hurt Petra, but I wasn't going to stand by idle either.

"Well, now, it seems they can be taught, Wesley," Amanda smirked toward her partner who gave an answering smile.

"Yes, so it would seem," he chuckled, and with the look she threw him, there was a personal story behind that. He managed to throw on an innocent look, but somehow, I don't think she believed him one bit. I don't doubt her, I didn't believe or trust him either.

"And this little lass is the second?" he motioned toward me, and I stiffened just a little bit. He seemed curious, as if having a female in a command position was rare.

Was it? I knew there were a few females who were in command positions, in fact, the majority of twic's back at our Manticore were female and there were even a couple female C.O.'s. Apparently, in the outside, a female rarely was in command or so it seemed.

"Yes, sir," I answered, purposely keeping off the first sir. My tone might have been just the littlest defensive, but hey, I was only partially human after all and I was proud of that promotion.

"Oh, a little defensive are we?" he mocked me and I cocked an eyebrow, but kept my eyes riveted ahead.

"Sir, yes, _sir,_" I bit out, everything textbook perfect, but something about the way I did it screamed 'screw you, too'. It took him by surprise and he laughed.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like this one," he chortled, eyeing me in challenge.

"Hmm…yes, a girl after your own heart," Amanda said dryly, looking over at me.

"And you are?" she prompted.

"X5-452, ma'am!" _Max,_ I thought savagely back. "Ma'am, should I repeat my full barcode ma'am?"

"No, that's okay," she said, a bit unsure for the first time. _Good_, I thought, but I kept this and everything off, slipping into my Manticore mask so fast and naturally it once again took the two handlers by surprise. What surprised them the most was probably the others reacting to the vibes I sent off. The second I slipped into soldier mode the others fell back on it as well.

_Seven Five Seven may be the one assigned commanding officer, but it looks like they've chosen a leader for themselves,_ Wes thought, observing the young soldiers in front of him, more specifically, X5-452. That last was just pert enough, that he looked at her more closely, wondering if this was just an innocent mistake on her part as it appeared or if the Manticore kids weren't as mechanical as they all thought.

Amanda glanced over at her partner in crime (sometimes literally) and shared another look. So far, this assignment wasn't anything like they'd expected it to, whether for better or for worse remained to be seen. She did get the feeling though that 452 was being sarcastic, and if there was one thing Amanda Ferrell knew, it was sarcasm. This should prove interesting.

"And this is the little jokester," she continued, taking in the other male child. This one was just as striking as the C.O., only his eyes were an unusual shade of was that purple?

_Oh. My. Heavens. He has purple eyes!_ At that she took another look at the first boy, the eldest, and she had a hard time keeping a gasp down and her neutral face in place. That boy, 757, had golden eyes! Well, more of a golden brown, but sheesh! She snuck a peek over at the other female, looking at her eyes. They were a crystal blue so light they were like a transparent gray. Out of them all, 452's eyes seemed the plainest, natural, but that's the word for it…_seemed._

_Right until you look into them,_ Amanda amended. 452 seemed to exude some air of confidence and an unknowing command that the others seemed to understand and obey on a subconscious level, even as she herself didn't realize it. Her eyes held a pertinence and level of just being _alive_ that Amanda didn't see where the trainers got off saying that they weren't real.

Of course, that cold-eyed soldier mask was creepy yes, and if that's all these kids showed of themselves around the trainers and staff that was one thing. But Amanda Ferrell would never, ever, underestimate the fact that these kids, and they were kids, had a life and will of their own. 452 had a fire, a stubborn will, and the female part of her was thrilled that such a strong female was looked up to by her peers.

"And what is your name?"

"My designation is X5-918 ma'am," Dante answered, eyes focused ahead, but seemingly aware of everything.

Amanda just nodded and looked at the last of their charges, a sturdy female taller than 452 by a few inches but no less stunning. She had the look of a good soldier, dependable, and somehow she knew that this was one soldier who'd give her life for those in her unit.

"Designation?" Amanda drawled and was a bit taken aback when the girl sassed back in a drawl almost the exact same as her own,

"X5-678, ma'am."

Wes sniggered behind her and she shot him another look, this one unfriendly, and that shut the big oaf up. She frowned at Wes, but this time, it wasn't because he did something wrong (yet) but because she was unsure how to proceed.

"Designations are all fine and dandy back at Manticore where they don't sweat having a bunch of numbers to rattle off to make themselves appear smarter for having remembered, but here in the outside, people and even soldiers have names. My name is Wes, and that's Amanda. We can't very well keep calling you X5-whatever. So we need to get you names."

"Max," I blurted out the same time the others spoke up.

"Dante."

"Petra."

"Evanescence. I go by Nessie."

Both handlers gave us surprised looks and we had the grace to blush. I spoke up to defend my mini-pack.

"Ma'am, Sir, we decided to give each other names earlier on the ride here so we could further blend in to successfully complete the mission objective," I spoke calmly, keeping my eyes primed ahead.

"Really?" Amanda mused, sharing another thoughtful look to Wes, who had moved to stand next her looking at their charges.

"And who authorized you to do this?" Wes asked. "Just curious, as we weren't informed of any aliases you were to assume."

I didn't even flinch as I plowed ahead.

"I did," I raised my chin in the air just a fraction, but that was enough to be noticed by the observant duo in front of me. They waited expectantly for more but I didn't give any.

"I think she gave all the answer she's gonna to, Wesley," Amanda finally laughed, and we didn't relax, even as the two adults shared in some amusement.

"You did," Wes repeated, eyeing this slip of a girl. She had to be only eight years old, and she was short, but sturdily built. She may not get very tall, but she'd pack one heckuva punch Wes was willing to bet. Her wig had slight curl and wave to it, and brushed her shoulders, giving her Latino heritage front and center spotlight. Her lips would become full and pouting as she grew older and developed into her body and Wes realized she'd be quite the looker when she grew up.

Oh, yeah, this was definitely a girl after his own heart. Sass, spirit, strength, and good looks…what a soldier she would be.

"Yes, sir, I did. Sir." I wasn't going to apologize. FUBAR that!

"Excellent initiative, X5-452…or should I call you, Max?" Amanda asked with a wicked smile. I said nothing, just stared straight ahead. _Let them think that_, I thought deep inside. _They will never know it's been my name for two years now._

"Well, that makes the first part of our job easier," Wes shrugged, turning around to sit back on the couch.

"I mean, all that brain power going into finding just the right alias to match you, you saved us a bunch of work. Kudos to you, Maxie poo," he grinned as he plopped himself down to slouch on the couch, one leg draped over the couch arm. This was going to be a long school year.


	8. ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

A/N: hey y'all. Sorry it took so long to update…many more chapters are written on paper in a notebook, I just have to type them and format them. Just figuring out how to format the chapters so I don't stick y'all with a long chapter like I'd did previously. I also work two jobs so finding the time to actually do it takes some juggling. Disclaimer is as always; I don't own Dark Angel, only the OC's. On The First Day of School 

"Hey, Maxie poo, get a move on it or we'll be late!"

_Maxie poo?_ Blue Lady have mercy on my soul. My handler was just as bad as my brothers. I was in deep, FUBAR waters. I also was in the middle of a nice, luxuriating hot bath and I scowled in the general direction of the closed door. But I obeyed, reluctantly, standing out of the tub to grab a nearby towel.

"C'mon, Max!" I heard Nessie plead outside the door, and I sighed, knowing she could hear me.

"Not my fault Dante and Petra hogged the showers last night," I grumbled, hearing her giggle at the accurate statement.

It was true, the two males of our tiny pack were water-holics…not that I blame them, of course, but when it interrupts _my_ bath time, that's when it becomes a problem. I would have had my bath last night when I could enjoy it to the full extent but noooo…. the boys just hade to get in a water fight took up all the time before lights out so Nessie and I couldn't have our bath time until this morning.

"Max!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted back, zipping up my pants and grabbing my t-shirt to storm out of the bathroom. Growing up in Manticore, we didn't care about seeing each other naked, but Wes and Amanda had some pretty weird rules about coming out of the bathtub and bedrooms completely clothed and they were very firm on that. So Nessie and I usually bathed together, but this morning I was a bit late getting up and so Nessie bathed before I did.

I was growling as I pulled the t-shirt over my head and resisted the urge to tuck it in. Outside girls don't tuck their shirts in unless they were in a private school with a dress code (like Manticore) but we were going to a public school that didn't have one. Not that the shirt was long enough to stay tucked in anyways. That was another strange outside custom…why do girls bare their stomachs, do they get overheated? Amanda had just keeled over laughing and we couldn't get her to share what was so funny.

"Took you long enough, o beloved leader," Dante sniggered as I came down to the table for breakfast. I merely gave him a look, too tired to make a comeback that didn't sound mean, and took my seat. Yet again, another weird custom our handlers had decided upon was everybody eating together for meals. Not an unusual concept except Wes and Amanda ate with us as well, and talked to us. No trainer at Manticore ever did that.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetie?" Wes asked as we passed around a breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, orange and apple juice, and milk. To combat the occasional bouts of seizures we X5s got on occasion, it was discovered milk and Tryptophan worked the best at helping to prevent them.

"Always do," I mumbled, not really in the mood.

"Shark DNA prevents her from getting more than a couple hours sleep every night, sometimes even all week," Nessie explained, taking a big glass of milk. Petra snuck a piece of her bacon and she whipped around so fast Pete didn't know what hit him. That was enough to bring me out of my funk.

"Oh, Petra she got you!" I laughed, the horrible lack of sleep night dissipating in light of the upcoming bout.

"That's not conduct becoming of an officer, soldier," Petra mock-growled, rubbing his sore arm, glaring at Nessie who defiantly ate her retrieved bacon.

"She's not an officer, and neither are you, and you should know better than to come between a transgenic and food, especially when said transgenic is hungry," I grinned at my supposed C.O.

The past few days we'd settled into a routine and hierarchy of sorts. Wes and Amanda were our immediate authority; for some reason, the other three looked up to me for the decisions and guidance. Perhaps it was the extra training or the way I called out orders to things I'd seen that need to be done, most often before anyone knew they were needed. Petra came next, and it was usually a toss up between Dante and Nessie to see who was in charge after that.

"C'mon y'all, settle down. Get these dishes done and then we need to get you to school. Move you're collective spliced tails, soldiers!" Amanda barked out, and we rushed to obey. With genetically empowered talents, the dishes and other morning chores were finished literally in a blur of speed, and we were marched (figuratively) out the door to the waiting minivan for school.

"Why do we have to go to school?" I couldn't help asking as the doors were shut and Wes was starting up the van.

"I mean, I could _teach_ school, why do we have to go?"

"Are we whining back there, Maxie?" Wes asked, turning to grin at me, but his eyes were serious also.

I opened my mouth to retort –did it sound like I _was_? - when I realized in time that a) it did sound like whining, and b) Wes may be laid back but he was still Manticore appointed and therefore must be observing everything for a report to his superiors. Having one of the commanding soldiers whine so pathetically would not look good, especially if said soldier was one of Lydecker's favorites.

"No, sir," I finally replied, this all happening in a split second. Wes held my eye for a second before turning back to drive.

"Just stating a _fact_ sir," I added, grinning as Wes gave a surprised bark of laughter while the other three fought not to laugh too hard.

"Keep it up seniorita, and we'll see who's laughing in the end," Wes warned, and that was enough for me to be quiet for the rest of the trip. I didn't mean for the rest of the others to be quiet as well, but when I fell silent, so did they. I could see Wes giving us looks in the mirror occasionally, shaking his head.

I forced myself not to sit in the rigid way taught to us by Manticore, and it was difficult trying to erase eight years worth of brainwashing and training. My back wanted to stay ramrod straight, never touching the back of the seat, hands placed upon my knees.

Wes was tapping against the steering wheel, and suddenly, I sat up straighter. I listened to the tapping, the sound having triggered something in my brain and my left hand unconsciously started to tap out in time, my body having recognized what my distracted brain didn't at first. Wes was tapping out Morse code. It was only a few seconds for my brain to translate once I switched my focus on it.

_ Relax, Max. _

Relax, Max? I cocked my head, and my eyes flew up to meet Wes' in the rearview mirror. He was looking directly my way, and then I got it. The others were following my lead, and they wouldn't relax until I did. I glanced over casually and saw that the others were just as rigid as I was.

I couldn't believe it. Sure they'd follow my orders and follow my lead if the situation warranted it, but copying me? That was some other side of funked up. I was about to make some comment, but then I stopped, another more disturbing thought had surfaced. If they were acting how I acted toward Zack, did that mean I had copied Zack as well?

I frowned, thinking back hard. Had there been signs that we'd copied Zack, our leader? Yes, yes we did! I remembered now how I was always watching Zack, looking for some telltale sign to relax, be alert, or time to play. I'd taken for granted the close body language I'd shared with my family was just another part of our DNA…I hadn't realized we'd also mimicked Zack. Now that I thought about it, Zack _himself_ copied after the Colonel and Sergeant Major Vaughn. So it wasn't just me and a few other submissives.

_Submissive. Me? As if!_

Not pleased with this thinking at all, I decided to undertake a non-intrusive experiment. I consciously eased my tense muscles, leaning back to touch the back of the seat, telling myself to _relax_ and not spring up like a daisy come summer. I slouched, _slouched_, against the window and threw an arm over the seat edge, humming a wordless little tune Lark had come up with.

I watched the others ease up gradually, and within moments of my humming and finger tapping experiment, they were loose and smiling with the secure knowledge that _I was okay with it_ and that _it was okay_. It was amazing and I glanced over at the rearview mirror. Wes' smile dazzled me and he gave a wink. Mission accomplished.

We pulled into street that was packed with traffic and when I saw what lie ahead, I knew why. The entire block was a continuous stream of buildings, all of them somehow identifiable as institutional. It was like one giant campus, only instead of college, it was a mix of the elementary, junior high, and high school levels. They were massive and many storied, and I wondered how in the world there could be enough young people to fill just one building with a certain age group.

"Okay, kids, I'm going to drop you off here, but I want you to wait for me while I find a place to park. It'll only take a few minutes. Remember; keep your aliases in place, which means cover story and accents. Max, you're in charge."

What? Me, in charge to face _this_? Zack wasn't around to bail me out of this one. I hid my gulp and I did what I'd been trained to do: I took command.

"You heard your superior, let's move! Move movemove!"

The others hurried out without protest and I joined them to wait on the curb. The four of us were left alone, truly alone for the first time in our lives. And I was in charge.

Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.


	9. INTRODUCING INSERT ALIAS

A/n: I am changing Max's alias here, so please do not get mad and shoot me down. All will be revealed in time.

INTRODUCING… 

I was left alone for the first time in my life without a trainer, without one of my family, without even a stupid guard or doctor. And I was left alone in charge of three other transgenics not of my unit. This was scary stuff indeed.

I gave a curious glance at the building in front of me, mind awhirl trying to remember everything, not wanting to screw this up and look bad on my family and Colonel Lydecker. The building itself was larger than our Manticore facility for the sole reason it was at least fourteen stories high and was comprised of both the elementary, junior high and high schools together. They were joined together by courtyards and one huge building that was I would come to find out the gym and auditorium.

The only true difference, other than the useless parks and auditorium/gym, which separated it from Manticore, was that it didn't have the acres upon acres upon miles of miles of forest, training grounds, and obstacle courses.

"We're supposed to go into that?" Dante asked from beside me, and I become cognizant that I was being flanked. I glanced over, Nessie was beside my left, Petra right behind her with a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, and Dante was on my right leaving me at point in a modified wedge formation.

"Yup…think they can handle us?" I gave a wicked grin.

"I don't think they'll know what hit them with you two," Petra groaned good-naturedly.

I smirked, and took a look at the sign right there in front of some pretty expensive landscaping. Cameron & Eglee Elementary. Cameron & Eglee Junior High. Cameron & Eglee High.

"Cameron and Eglee must have been important," Nessie wondered aloud what I'd been thinking, she too looking at the signs, the farthest sign not far with our telescopic vision. She cast nervous looks at the sheer numbers of students and parents and staff coming in and out of the buildings or forming large or small groups hanging about the courtyards.

"Imagine, there must be hundreds of them," Petra murmured, keeping tactile contact with Nessie, rubbing her shoulders with his hands in soothing circles.

"But not all of them are Ordinary…what do you want to bet there's some more of us in there? Or even being dropped off right now, or registered? There might even be some 'local' cousins," I encouraged, giving Petra a look. Couldn't he see crowds made her anxious, crowds of ordinaries that is.

"Yeah, we might have to prove us Wyoming 'gens aren't pushovers like these water lilies here," Dante added and we all laughed at his bumbled expressions.

"Don't you mean, 'pansies'?" Nessie giggled, sidestepping a pair of chattering females with overloaded backpacks. The girls stopped laughing and talking to stare at the boys as they went past, and once they did, they put their heads together and giggled.

Our sharp hearing picked up what they were saying even as they were out of distance and whispering. It was interesting to hear they found our boys attractive. We four looked at each other in bemusement, shook our heads. _Ordinaries._

"So…water lilies?" I prompted, setting us to laughing again, while I kept an eye out for Wes and/or any threat.

"Yeah…water lilies," Dante nodded. "Can't be pansies because they only grow where there's moderate rainfall. Water lilies because they were bred and grown here in beautiful, water world central."

"That's terrible, Dante," I shook my head, finally spotting our handler among the crowds.

"C'mon kiddies, let's not dawdle, we need to get you to class," he called out cheerfully and with a genuine smile. He and Amanda were pretty laid back and seemed to actually give a damn about us as people, not millions of dollars of research and development.

"Accents and flavor please," he said under his breath where only we could hear him, a subtle reminder to keep in character.

For the past five days, I'd had a crash course in Spanish culture and politics, listening to tapes and CDs to get the accent correct, learning about American culture so that if there were gaps in my memory about 'normal' school, it could be brushed off as me being foreign. It'd also help explain a few quirks.

I knew the others had undergone similar courses with varying nationalities that would seem natural for our ethnicities. Our cover story was we were part of a foreign exchange program and had the same host family, Wes and Amanda, coincidentally.

We followed Wes up the stairs leading up to Cameron & Eglee Elementary School, weaving in and out of the crowd to find the main office area off the main foyer which was as large as the mess hall back home, with just as many corridors leading away toward classrooms and storage closets and stairwells for even more classrooms upward. It was a large school.

"Okay, guys and gals, first stop is to drop off the little people, that means not you Pete," Wes quipped, holding the door open for all us to troop on in, no pun intended. Five days had accustomed us to some of Wes's little quirks, one of them being how he would always use the funkiest phrases.

There was a platinum blonde woman behind a tall counter, phones ringing softly in the background, mixing in with the hum of computers and muted conversation. Several adults were in with their charges…or did they call them offspring? Children? Parents with children, I think. Or guardians. Human relationships seemed so complex and varying.

"Well, hello!" the lady flashed her teeth at us or more so, at Wes; they were so absolutely white and perfectly straight I suspected they were fake. Or a really good bleaching job. They didn't seem…natural.

I felt a frown forming between my eyes and stood up a bit straighter, unconsciously moving slightly forward and to the side to take point, covering my comrades. I discovered that Dante had had a similar reaction; only he had moved close enough to brush against me.

Nessie edged toward me as well, while Petra looked like he'd love to join the mini-pack but was uncertain how that would appear for a supposed C.O. to huddle. Nessie saved him from any embarrassing admissions by letting go of my arm and clutching at him, making him her protector and comfort.

"Hello to you too!" Wes replied ever cheerfully, drawing the attention off us.

I don't know, something about the way she smiled…it raised invisible hackles and made me want to snarl back. Too much teeth flashing for my animal instinct not to react to a perceived threat? My eyes narrowed as I realized she was checking Wes out in a not-so-obvious-quite-obvious way. She wouldn't have flirted if Amanda were here with Wes.

"What have we here?" she only gave a cursory glance our way, double-taking when she caught sight of the boy's unusual eyes.

"Foreign exchange students," We answered glibly, and you could practically see her interest pique.

"Really? How wonderful!"

"Could she sound any faker?" Dante mumbled under his breath.

"Give her a few more sentences," I muttered back. Nessie coughed and turned into Petra's side, and he buried his smile in her hair. To an outsider it would look like he was comforting a scared little girl. Very smooth.

"I'm Ms. Binker, the receptionist," she cooed at Wes, batting her eyes and leaning down to show hints of her cleavage. I was amused to see some disapproving looks from several waiting mothers, one was even covering her daughter's eyes, and sending death glares in the receptionist's direction.

"Does she have a death wish?" Nessie murmured into Petra's side, easing herself away but staying within the circle of his arms.

"Amanda would eat her for breakfast," Petra agreed, stroking Nessie's hair.

"Good thing she already ate; Ms. Binker would give her indigestion," Dante snorted. Thankfully the adults weren't paying attention and couldn't hear our side-conversation, Ms. Binker was trying to get Wes to fill out some forms.

"…Just need you to fill these out, mister…?" she was saying.

"McCabe, and thank you, but my wife Amanda already filled out the forms last week," Wes answered with a bright smile, eyes sparkling. "I just need to pick up the kid's schedules. The younger three are attending here and the eldest is going to the junior high."

"I see," a great deal of enthusiasm had been sucked away in light of Wes' "marriage" and she was once again back to her original state in disappointment.

"Names?" she inquired, heading toward a stack of papers.

"Katarina Murrieta, Evanescence Corazon, and Dante Mondego."

"Say what?" Her look was startled for a moment before she did an admirable job of pulling herself together.

"Katarina? Evanescence?"

"Katarina, is me," I piped up in Spanish-laden English, affecting a bright, cheery smile.

"Evanescence…my da and ma named me cause I'm so bubbly!" Nessie added with a Welsh accent, looking so innocent harder hearts than Ms. Binker couldn't resist.

"Yes, well…" she cleared her throat; uncomfortable and embarrassed in light of her shot down advances. "Beautiful name."

"And what would your name be, handsome?" she asked Petra as she pulled some papers out of two stacks after tapping some commands on the computer and reading what it brought up.

"Petra Pietrov," Petra's tongue rolled the accent like Russian candy. "But I am told, that you Americans prefer nicknames, so you can call me…Pete."

One of the older girls in the waiting room sigh, and I exchanged another look with Dante, as Nessie was glaring in her direction. Human females were strange creatures indeed.

"Katarina Murrieta, Evanescence Corazon, and Dante Mondego," Ms. Binker announced, brandishing three sheets of paper in the air in a voila gesture.

"Here are the schedules for this semester, the next page is for the second semester, and there's copies of the building layout with emergency exits marked, each highlighted for the individual student's classes."

"Thank you so much, Ms. Binker, you have been most helpful," Wes layered it on with all the charm of a snake, taking the papers and somehow managing to kiss her extended hand in the process.

I raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but followed my handler in awe; a Master had truly been at work today.

" '_Katarina? Evanescence?' _" Dane mimicked in a scarily accurate falsetto. I reached over and smacked him on the arm, giving a glare that was tinged with mirth.

"Evanescence is a lot better name than Ms. Binker," Nessie sniffed haughtily, nose and chin raised in the air. Wes finally stopped trying to hid his reaction to our antics and laughed aloud.

"I seem to have corrupted you," he teased as he led us expertly through a crowd of parents dropping off children.

"No, sir, we was already corrupted long before you," Petra grinned.

"Pete made a funny!" I teased him, surprised when he flushed red. I was fascinated, but we'd reached our first stop.

"Dante, this is your stop," Wes remarked as we stood in front of Room 29. For a moment, the five of us stood and just stared at the steadily filling up room with chittering youngsters and weepy parents. This was it, the time had finally come, and I don't think until that moment any of us really expected us to be doing this.

Dante swallowed and I touched his shoulder in an instinctive offering of strength and comfort to a pack brother. The past five days, while not without their tensions or aggravations, had merged our four different personalities into something similar to a unit mind. A mini-pack if you will. They would never truly be the family that Unit 2 will always be, but perhaps, friends and comrades and something closer than that. And that was okay.

Petra and Nessie touched him also, commiserating. None of us liked being alone; call it a throwback to animal DNA or whatever, I'd seen even humans get this way. Perhaps our animal blood just let us express it more freely. Whatever it was, we were pretty casual touchers and made us feel better with the contact.

"Well," Wes cleared his throat, moving aside as a smilingly apologetic mother and her son squeezed through to enter the room. "This is the fourth grade, all aboard! Go get 'em, Tiger"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Dante drawled in a French accent imitating an 'American' one. His eyes sparkled with that play of mischief, and I had a sudden foreboding at the calm way he was taking this. I had to keep back a groan.

"Behave," I hissed before he started for the door.

"Aww…"

"I mean it."

"You're just jealous because you can't have any decent fun without me," he laughed at me, while I put on a mock-pout, affecting hurt and watching him enter the room with a smile on his face and a proud hitch to his step.

I smirked when just as he was about to disappear from our line of sight, he turned back and waved, and I caught a hidden message.

_ You behave too, _he signed to me and I nodded in acknowledgement, grinning.

"Let's get you and Miss Loch Ness to class so Pete won't be late, eh Kitty Kat?" Wes teased, and I rolled my eyes. Ever since Amanda had come up with the Katarina alias for me, Wes had been making fun of it, making "cat" jokes. He'd also taken to calling Nessie, little miss loch ness or miss Scot or any other culturally pathetic nickname he could think of, which was quite a bit actually. Granted, some were humorous but this was going on six days now. Enough was enough.

The good thing was that Nessie and I would be in the same class. I hadn't been keen on going to class alone, though I wouldn't have had a choice, but it was comforting knowing that I'd have someone I was partially familiar with and actually liked.

Perhaps this school dealio wouldn't suck as bad as seemed to at first. Yeah, right. This was a _Manticore_ approved and endorsed option from the Committee itself; this was going to suck so badly.


	10. THE SECOND GRADE

A/n: I'm going to try and get at least one chapter transferred from my notebook to my computer and posted here so y'all don't have to wait so long between updates. Also, I was selected for jury duty; so that'll be taking up some more time, just bear with me. And as always, please review! I appreciate the comments and critiques. If someone would like to beta for me, please give me an email that would be so wonderful. I don't own Dark Angel or the characters, just the ones I make up.

THE SECOND GRADE 

"Good morning class! I am Mrs. Anderson, and I'm going to be your teacher for the next school year. Welcome to the second grade! This year is going to be so exciting, we're going to learn new things, meet new people, and have lots of fun!"

The moment I heard the first part of this speech I knew I was in trouble. Actually, I'd known since Wes told me "second grade" that I was going to be in trouble. I already knew all the 'new things' we were supposed to learn this 'exciting' school year. My teacher looked like she was on the wrong side of forty who abhorred children but put on a fake bubbly attitude to make it through the day to earn her paycheck. She needed to find another job or else join Ms Binker in the office downstairs.

Mrs. Anderson started going on about oh, speaking of new people, isn't it just exciting that we have foreign exchange students this year? It was _exciting_ because most foreign exchange students came in during the high school years and it wasn't often foreigners our age were exchanged. It was a new program 'just started!' this term and it was going to be 'exciting' and 'lots of fun'!

The teacher annoyed me.

I was bored.

I decided started debating which method of torture I wanted to inflict upon Mrs. Anderson if I had to hear her say the words exciting and lots of fun in that fake, cheery voice talking down on us like we were stupid.

Let's see here, how about the Chinese water torture? No, she seemed like the type who would freak out too much and drown prematurely, taking most of the pleasure out of it. That was out.

How about skinning? If done properly, skinning has about a 75 survival rate of its victims, though there is always that minority percentage. The survival rate also was dependant upon whether or not the victim had a full body skinning or taken in just parts.

Full body skinning has a higher risk for shock fatality, and an increased chance of infection as the epidermis is no longer able to protect now vulnerable body parts. The best way to go would probably to take sections at a time. One could even get creative and strip designs off the flesh and make a pretty mosaic if the wounds were aloud to heal.

_Whoa_.

I was starting to creep myself out.

I tuned back into Ms. Actually-Not-Cheery-or-Likable's speech, and she now wanted to introduce all the foreigners to the class before making general introductions. To quote a phrase from the greatest thinker of all time, Mr. Winnie the Pooh…oh, bother.

Did I mention I was bored?

"Class, let's welcome the our foreign guests, and let's make sure they have an exciting and fun filled year!"

A 9mm Glock point blank using Glazer Safety Rounds. No, make that Homady Custom XTP handgun ammo, something with more penetration power from somewhere a little farther away than point blank. Glazers only made sure that you didn't blow a hole outside the victim but had no long range. Not that I minded getting bloody.

"Evanescence Corazon, please stand up and tell the class who you are and where you came from. She's our first exchange student," Mrs. Anderson added in an aside to the rest of us.

"No…" I whispered in fake awe, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

"I am Evanescence Corazon, I come from Wales in the United Kingdom," Nessie stood up and began. She was just a tad bit shy, enough so, that one could believe she was bashful upon first meet.

"My da, my father, is part Spanish, hence our name Corazon. The other part of him is Welsh, the last remnants of the Celts and Gaels. My ma came from Scotland, in the Highlands, which is where we live half of the year with ma's brother and the rest of the Clan," Nessie's quiet explanation, coupled with her softly accented voice, was an oddly soothing combination and I felt myself relax slightly.

"The other half, we spend in Wales, at me da's ancestral home, where he does studies for university research."

"Have you met the loch ness monster?" one of the boys shouted, causing the surrounding children to laugh.

"Everyday when I look in the mirror," Nessie quipped dryly, surprising some children with her sharp retort. "My da calls me Nessie."

She sat down and let out relieved breath. Mrs. Anderson was smiling as if she'd been pleasantly surprised, and I was amused that she could perform something so genuine as smile and mean it.

"Thank you, Evanescence…or can we call you Nessie?"

"Nessie is fine," she assured the teacher.

"Right. Katarina, why don't you go next? You share the same host family our new friend Nessie here, so you probably know a bit more about her than we do. Go on."

"My name is Katarina Murrieta," I spoke as I stood, my r's rolling off my tongue as if I spoke this way since birth.

"My family and I live in Ciudad de Mexico. That's Mexico City, Mexico for those who don't know. I have a large family, lots of brothers and sisters whom my parents adopted, with only one blood brother. He's older by only a year or so and is in the exchange program also, but we were separated to different places."

"Hey, chica, you have some maracas?" the loch ness question boy piped up again. This time, only a few kid laughed, mostly boys.

Before the teacher could react, I beat her to it.

"_Si_, but only experienced players can handle them, and you don't appear to qualify," I came off, hand on one hip, arching an eyebrow in challenge. This got a bigger reaction from the kids, and the teacher looked appalled.

"Well, um, that was very…informative. Katarina, sit down, you can sit."

I tossed an amused grin the teacher's way, not caring if she took it as insolent or not. Okay, so maybe I didn't have to use any lethal or potentially lethal methods to get back at Mrs. Anderson. All I had to do was act naturally. Oh yeah, I was sooo going to get into trouble.

Welcome to the second grade, Max.


	11. STILL THE FIRST DAY

A/n: thanks for all the great reviews. Reivyn has brought up a good point that I will address in this chapter. Oh, and Bitto, I will be bringing Alec in, I just don't know whether now or a little bit later. What would Seattle be without Alec?

Disclaimer: still don't own Dark Angel, only the original characters I create.

STILL THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL 

"What are maracas?" Nessie whispered to me as soon as there was a lull in the conversation around us. We were coloring –_coloring!_ - and I had a strong suspicion it was only to keep us distracted long enough to give Mrs. Anderson a break.

"Maracas are a Mexican instrument made of wood, usually in a gourd or squash shape, hollowed out and filled with sand or beads to make a simple, child friendly noise maker. And boys use them as a term for women's breasts," I shrugged.

"Boys seem to refer to a lot of things in reference to women's breasts," Nessie mused, coloring neatly in the lines on her picture. It was so neat and dainty and utterly feminine I wanted to take a marker and scribble all over the precise strokes.

I don't know why I was so defensive and nasty at the moment, I was just so bored. Not even in school an hour and I was ready to kill something.

"Boys are just fascinated with female biology period," I agreed.

For the seventh time actively, I took in all the exits in the form of windows and doors and the placement of the ventilation system. The ceiling was some of those plaster tile things, easily removed and firm enough to crawl on top of should the need arise to journey into the jousts and beams above.

My eyes roved across my classmates, taking all the different shapes and sizes and just plain _variety_ there were. I observed them, listening in on conversations, cataloging responses and instigations, and placing it all in a mental file for further analyzing. I came up with a game, trying to guess what their responses would be to certain scenarios, which would end up being the tough guys and who would be dependable in the end, at the same time casing the place.

There was a small group of kids in my class that my eyes just kept focusing on, and surreptitiously, I sniffed the air. Something was off about that bunch…I suspected I'd found some of my Seattle and cross-country brethren. There was a vaguely musky, animal scent tinged with that of human, creating a uniquely transgenic smell. Unless of course some of the kids played and rolled around with large predator cats, sharks, and hawks.

Some oblique recon paid off as I spotted them, two apparently as bored with school as I was. I caught one girl's eye and flicked a hand signal so fast only another transgenic could possibly even tell I'd made some movement, much less make out what I'd told her.

Her eyes widened just a tad, but she quickly fell back into a soldier mask, and I held back a grin. Oh yeah, she was definitely one of ours. She nudged her friend sitting by her and motioned toward me, using concise signals what I'd just done. He looked up at me and flicked his eyes to Nessie also. He nodded to me, raising his hand to signal.

_Confirm, X-series status_

I answered back: _confirmed_

"What are you doing, Max?" Nessie asked, having picked up on my movements.

"Keeping the line of communication open," I sassed back, grinning. I kept my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard by the Ordinaries, but I knew my kin would be able to hear just as well as I could hear what they were saying.

"We shouldn't be making contact with others not in our assigned detail unless instructed to by our handlers," Nessie fretted. I looked over at her and grinned.

"Come on, Nessie. Our objective is to engage in meeting new people to enhance our socialization skills: a large part of our socialization will be with other transgenics, and chances are, we'll be paired up with others from different facilities and this is just preparation. No harm in that. It's showing initiative and the trainers all like it when we do that."

"Sure they do," she sounded doubtful, and appropriately so. Gillette seemed to have gotten the worst pick of the litter when it came to the guards and trainers. But of chauvinistic morons with incompetence hardwired into their genetic coding.

But Nessie was so cute when she said that, it struck me as funny, and I couldn't seem to help smiling or the urge that made me want to do so many pranks. I was so _bored_ and at least my fellow transgenics were a small distraction.

_This is a complete waste of time_

My new sister/cousin smirked back at me, holding a hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle. I smiled, and went back to my coloring. Somehow, I didn't get how making a bunch of eight year olds color in sheets filled with guys wearing funny striped hats and long legged pants tied in with learning about Labor Day or whatever holiday we were supposed to be taught, that the teacher hadn't gotten around to yet. Or maybe it was just first day was more an introduction, not the actual thing yet. Oh yippee.

"Do you think the Colonel will hang this up in his wall locker if I color inside the lines and create cammies instead of these stripes?" I kept my voice pitched low, going lower still.

Nessie about had a heart attack, she was coughing and spluttering so hard, I couldn't tell if she was supposed to be laughing or wailing.

"You okay?" I asked, unconcerned. She garbled something, but as she was still incoherent, I didn't pay that much attention.

"Oh, oh! Evanescence! Are you okay?"

Nessie was still coughing but she was nodding and making hand motions, which I read as okay, but Mrs. Anderson wasn't skilled in the art of Manticorian hand signals, and Nessie made the universal ok sign with her thumb and forefinger.

"Just peachy keen, Mrs. Anderson. Choked on some spit and one of Ma- uh, Kat's lame jokes."

I arched an eyebrow at that one, mouth twitching. I'd get her back; she just didn't know she was in trouble yet. Then again, looking at her lean imperceptibly away, maybe she did. Hmm…decisions, decisions.

This day could be looking up after all.

"Katarina…" Mrs. Anderson began, in a high pitched tone of voice some women use when talking to small, ignorant children, as a warning I suppose. Gag me with a pair of skivvies.

"_Si, senora?_"

"Please do not disturb the other children in such a dangerous manner. I know it seems funny when you're saying things, but Evanescence could have been seriously hurt. Be more mindful in the future."

"Disturb the other children? Dangerous?" my confusion wasn't faked like my accent, but I put a truly perplexed look on my face, in place of the skeptical one I wanted.

"What does this mean? I made a funny, and she laughed, I did not set out to injure her."

_Like a little spit ever hurt anyone. As if it would take down a transgenic. Now _that_ would be something embarrassing, to be brought down by a goober._

"Well, perhaps not, but Evanescence choked nonetheless and that is dangerous. So try and be more mindful, please?" The _please_ sounded forced, and so did her smile, and imagining her running and writhing with terror of being hunted down appealed to me and made me smile.

"I will endeavor to not make funnies where others choke on their laughter in the future, _senora_."

"See that you do." Then she left to make more airy comments in that high-pitched whine of a voice again.

"I pity this generation under her tutelage," was my only comment, and Nessie went off laughing again.

"Watch your spit, Nessie, don't want you to engage in any _dangerous _activity."

This time, she didn't choke on her spit.

The rest of the day passed in a similar manner, sneaking signals with the other transgenics, and completing useless activities that weren't very challenging to a genetically engineered super soldier. I couldn't believe lunch took so long to get here and then nearly whimpered when I remembered that lunch meant the day was only a little more than halfway finished.

Being the stalwart commanding officer I suddenly found myself in the position of, I kept a calm face, even when Nessie scrunched hers in exasperation. Nessie was one of the most cheerful transgenics I ever met, and if she was tired of school already, then I wasn't blowing the situation out of proportion.

"Class its lunch time! Please put your supplies away, clean up the mess at your area, and then get in line so we can go to the cafeteria!"

"Yeah! It's time to go to the cafeteria!"

Nessie giggled as she rolled her eyes to me. I chuckled, cleaning up my area and trying not to wince as the noise level suddenly shot up in the room as the prospect of food made hyper children extra hyper.

The chaos that occurred in the next ten minutes was a wonder to me, who being raised in strict Manticore, was used to following orders immediately in a quick and timely manner under the threat of severe punishment. The fact that these children were out of control and the teacher had so little; it was sad and disgusted me.

"Class…class, please settle down! Class!"

"Do you think if she keeps asking them that we'll miss lunch?" one of the new transgenics asked as they slipped toward us.

"The possibilities of that occurring are exponentially increasing by the second as this anarchy continues," I mimicked one of my trainers, keeping a straight face, only my eyes giving it away.

It was enough to be recognized by my fellow transgenics. Nessie laughed because of my impersonating of our facilities head psychologist. The others laughed because it was funny; or maybe they had someone similar at their own facilities.

"I'm 245, but my alias is Neela," the female transgenic who'd I'd first spotted greeted me. "From Seattle."

Neela had dark Indian features, as in India Indian, a real Indian. Her hair and eyes complemented her deep, toffee colored skin. She was maybe half an inch shorter than me, which was amazing, as I was one of the shortest people I knew.

"I'm 452, Katarina is my alias on this mission. Or Kat, if you prefer. My unit mate Nessie, 678. We're both from Gillette, Wyoming."

"Hello," she nodded to the gathered transgenics. The class was still in chaos and we X-5's were the only children waiting patiently by the hatch – door in civilian speak.

Nessie didn't comment on the omittance of my true name, but I knew she was thinking about it. Telling your unit was one thing; letting another know a potential weakness and risk exposure was another entirely.

"Zero One Nine; alias Mara, Seattle," another female spoke up. She reminded me of Jace with her attitude and that reassured me somewhat. She was bleach blond to rival Petra, and her eyes were a deep, chocolate brown completely at odds with her coloring.

These newbies weren't so different after all, even if they didn't come from Wyoming.

"Scott, 010, from New York."

Scott had a wholesome, good old boy persona. His hair was that light brunette that only someone who was once a true blond could achieve. Blue-gray eyes peered out from dark lashes, and I swore if I looked at them from a certain angle, that I could see just a hint of purple. He was white, no doubt about that, but he was cute, in a WASP sort of way.

"Glen, 480, from good ole southern Georgia," the final transgenic grinned at us all, his deep Southern accent reminding somewhat of Amanda's.

He had deep chestnut hair, sparkling gray-green eyes, and a mischievous smirk that I'd come to know all too well from my brothers and Dante. It was heartening to know that not all transgenics had the life beat out them, it gave me hope, but it wasn't a feeling that I knew or understood why I felt that way.

No further conversation could be continued as the swirling mass of Ordinary children surged toward us like an tsunami: inevitable and not boding well.

"Single file class, please!" Mrs. Anderson shouted to be heard. Of course, no one listened to her and I glanced around to look at the assembled chaos and resisted the urge to shake my head. This was so whack.

Somehow we made our way to the cafeteria; I still don't know how, an almost complete disorderly mess to my Manticore trained eye was our class. We entered the enormous room and I nearly gaped. Good thing training was such a habit; I would have been gawking like some country girl in the big city for the first time. This place was enormous! And it was only a cafeteria. The sheer number of students or just plain people to be serviced was staggering.

"We're not in Kansas anymore," Nessie murmured, leaning back from in front of me, brushing her hand along mine.

"It's okay, Toto, we'll find our way home, eventually." I stroked her hand comfortingly. My stomach gave a growl and I shared a grin with Nessie.

"And to the supper table too," Scott quipped from behind me. I laughed.

"Yeah, that too."

"Hey, there's Dante!" Nessie fairly bounced at catching sight of another familiar face. Her fear of large crowds of Ordinaries could be a problem; better nip it in the bud now before the trainers make her miserable.

"Dante?" Glen asked, looking around, possibly for his own unit mates.

"He's from our facility and bunking with us," she explained softly. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh,_ no_."

"Oh, no, what?" I asked, trying to find Dante and figure out why Nessie suddenly looked even more apprehensive than normal. Hey, I could multitask.

"Oh, there's 494 and 510!" Neela fairly bubbled. I didn't hear the rest cause my heart froze at the first designation: 494.

Ben was 493. Did that mean 494 was his…brother? I knew we were cloned from the first DNA samples: that's why we were the fifth series of a specific DNA sequencing. X-5, get it?

What would a 494 look like? With a designation so close-only one number off- they'd have to be pretty close. Could he be twinned? Could we _all_ be twinned, as like a back up, or something?

I cast my eyes about, looking for someone who looked like Ben, and I saw him all right, sitting by Dante and a few others. He looked _exactly like Ben_. Except for a few things: he was laughing and talking and joking around with those around him with an ease and level of casualness that Ben never did.

It was like a shock, like I'd been tossed in the Tank in the middle of winter, and held under with a steel chain. For one thing, this guy looked so familiar, and yet he wasn't. That concept was so foreign and mind-boggling I couldn't grasp it at first. Then he looked up, glanced over our way, and our eyes locked.

_BAM!_

It was like being smacked into the wall at ninety miles an hour, tossed into and sealed inside an iceberg, run over by a train, or crushed under a ten ton metal weight.

Every hair on my body stood at attention and I was just…_aware_ of him. Totally, completely, and utterly aware of him. Everything about him. His scent rushed in to almost overpower me; I could feel his gaze boring into mine, hear the wild beating of my heart. I was taken in by the utter _maleness_ and sheer presence; I think I forgot to breathe.

_494,_ I thought with wonder. It was entirely primal and nothing I could really explain except that I was just…conscious of him.

"You're staring at my commanding officer, Kat."

I didn't hear Mara at first; I was still eye-locked with 494. I came back to myself only after feeling an insistent tug on my arm by a worried looking and wide-eyed Nessie.

"You okay?" she looked at me with concern.

"Yeah?" I was still a little distracted. My gaze kept sliding toward his as we made our way farther up the line. I was glad it wasn't just me; I noticed his gaze kept shifting to keep me in view as well.

"You find something you like?" Mara demanded sarcastically.

I merely glanced over at her, and something in my gaze made her cocky stance shift, and she crossed her arms, hugging herself.

"I was having a moment."

I glanced over at Nessie in front of me and gave her a reassuring smile. She didn't look convinced.

Neela gave a snort that could have been a laugh that was cut short as Mara glared at her unit mate. Scott and Glen weren't as obliged to heed the warning; they laughed outright. Apparently Mara's attitude wasn't unknown to them and having her put in her place was a funny thing.

Or it was; until I gave _them_ a look, eyes narrowed. They shut up very quickly, trying to look all innocent and harmless.

_Innocent my rear end; especially that Glen from Georgia._

We waited patiently in line and it was difficult not to look back and see him. I could practically feel a hot spot right between my shoulder blades. I shrugged and rotated my shoulders, popping my neck. I was okay, really. Seeing an exact look alike of my favorite and closest friends and unit mates was no big deal. Nor was the electricity in our gazes anything more than shock on my part.

Ri-ight.

I was relieved to see the portal to the food buffet, and I automatically grabbed for a tray and utensils. Apparently, Manticore and the school cafeteria shared the same thinking on how to feed a bulk amount of hungry people.

I smiled at the ladies, remembering all my pre-training and saying 'please' and 'thank-you' despite it grating on my nerves to say 'please' after hearing it all day in an annoyingly high squeak from a supposed authority figure who was anything but that. The food smelled marginally better than that served back home; I guess that was another thing school had in common with Manticore.

I had a tray full of soy cheeseburger, French fries, a cup of fruit, a dessert, and chocolate Yoo-hoo. Wes and Amanda had given us money this morning to put in our accounts so we won't have to bum lunch money off them everyday. The money was well funded, courtesy of Manticore, the best to be all that we could be.

"Do we have assigned sections to sit at?" Nessie asked with her own tray of food.

"I don't think so," I mused, seeing all the apparent groups merge when it was obvious they knew one another.

For the most part, the students were separated into their own classes, and even those were divided into obvious cliques. Not wanting to appear weak, I straightened my spine, and I tried not to literally march over to the empty seating I was aiming for.

I plopped my tray down and straddled the little plastic circle of a seat. Nessie took my right, and the other four spread out around and in front of us. We started to dig in and eat; one thing about us transgenics, no matter where we're from, our metabolisms work very fast so we get hungry fairly easy. There was several long minutes worth of silence as we all fell to the business of eating.

I felt a prickle along my spine a moment before Dante sank into the seat on my left. I grinned as he grimaced when Nessie smacked his hand away from touching her dessert cup of something called 'cheesecake'.

I growled at him when he focused his attention toward mine. I think it was more the growl than anything else that made him reconsider another attempt at the cheesecake.

"Never interrupt a hungry girl," I informed him, my voice still low with a steady growl threaded through.

"Especially when we have cheesecake," Nessie interjected, scraping the last remnants of her dessert.

"I'll agree to that," Scott sniggered, tearing into his own dessert.

Mara was watching me warily, and Neela had noted the interaction between Dante and us.

"Dante, this is Scott, Neela, Glen, and Mara. The girls are some of those water lilies you were talking about; Scott is from New York and Glen from Georgia."

"Water lilies?" Neela asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dante's code for coming from Seattle," Nessie grinned.

"Inside joke," I shrugged it off at the same time. I swapped amused looks with my mini-pack to the skeptical ones of the newbies.

"So…are you like, the C.O. for your unit, Kat?" Neela inquired, looking back and forth between us three.

I found I liked Neela a whole lot. She was smart and funny and kind and very observant.

"Max….Kat is our commanding officer for this mission," Dante answered, flashing the beautiful Indian girl a charismatic smile.

He was also leaning away from me as he realized he'd broken my alias. Hey, he was only in trouble with Wes and Amanda. I wouldn't compound the issue though I would be talking to him later.

"Why did you call her Max when her alias is Katarina?" Mara demanded in obvious hostility.

"Because it's my name," I answered, laying a hand lightly upon Dante's thigh as he bristled.

"_Your_ name?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Zero One Nine?"

I left her alias out on purpose, and my voice could have froze molten lava, but I kept it calm. It was a very good imitation of Lydecker, if I do say so myself. Dante and Nessie stiffened in recognition so it must have been that accurate.

"Sometimes Mara can get a little aggressive," Neela hastened to say, trying to avoid a conflict that was brewing.

"Really?" Dante asked, giving a lascivious smile a waggle of his eyebrows. She blushed and I was fascinated at this new side I'd discovered in Dante. It was effective in taking my attention off putting Mara in her place.

"Chill, Romeo, her commanding officer was sitting right next to you and I don't feel like kicking his ass just because you got frisky with one of his girls," I joked softly but there was a hint of warning.

"Yeah right, as if you could kick his ass," Mara scoffed and Dante snarled at her.

"Who wants to take bets on that?"

I looked up and saw the subject of the conversation standing right behind Dante, a charming grin upon his face, his eyes boring into mine for the second time that day.

I made a show of looking him up and down, letting my gaze linger; it was redundant, as I'd just had a shower not even five days ago with a similar body wearing a matching face, but that wasn't the point.

I felt a smile start to form and I let that amusement show in my expression, but leaving my eyes slightly reserved.

"Do you?" I arched an eyebrow, challenging.

_What are you doing Max? He's a freaking C.O.! A real one, not just a temp like you, and he looks like Ben! Ben who routinely kicks your ass sparing!_

I ignored the voices of reason in my head; instead I listened to that feral half, deep down in my gut, which was drowning out all protests, the one that told me to stand up and not back down, to prove myself worthy.

_Worthy of what, for what, for whom?_

I ignored this voice as well. Today just wasn't a day for listening to the voices in my head.

"Nah," he shrugged it off with a careless twitch of his shoulders, an easy smile playing across his lips.

His hazel eyes were a startling mix of green and gray dominantly, mixed with blue and brown, and just a hint of gold in their depths; the more I looked the more the green and gold seemed to jump out and threaten to pull me in.

_Damn, I feel like I'm in Psy-ops. _

"I'm not into child abuse," he added with a wide grin to show perfect gleaming teeth.

_He just had to add that and, Bam! Challenge accepted and counterstrike launched. _

"I can understand that as you would be the one getting abused," I smiled back, more a baring of teeth than a true grin.

_Oh…direct hit!_

His eyes flickered with emotion; was that interest and amusement lurking there? I just didn't know enough to profile his moods and I knew, just _knew_, it would be a mistake to base assumptions off what I knew about his twin.

"Would I?" his voice rumbled, in a purring tone that was more at home on a hunting panther, than a ten year old boy.

If he cultivated that voice, when he was older and body matured, that voice would get him very far with a lot of women in a way he probably shouldn't. It was a pleasant voice.

Where those thoughts came from, I don't know. But I decided to keep to the task at hand. Chiefly, not letting my proverbial ass be handed to me by a look alike.

"Wouldn't you?"

"I asked you first."

_A very strong, charismatic, commanding officer look-alike._

"And I answered."

"With another question."

"Most answers are."

He surprised me by laughing aloud.

"You're not that bad…494's the designation, but my assigned alias is Richard."

"Ah, so you're a Dick," I laughed at him, eyes twinkling.

"Oh that was really funny. So funny, I forgot to laugh," 'Richard' said with the slightest of grins. He was enjoying this banter as much as I it seemed.

He carelessly lounged in the hard, little plastic seat, one elbow leaning casually on the table top, the epitome of relaxed and poised.

I noticed that Neela and Mara seemed to take strength and comfort in his presence in a way that they hadn't previously. Just like I did when Zack was around.

Thoughts of Zack sent a pang of homesickness and longing right through me, and such thoughts were dangerous. So I went on the offensive to get rid of those nagging and uncomfortable emotions.

"Richard doesn't suit you, you're too much of a smart-aleck for something so refined. I think I'll call you Alec."

"Alec…I like it. So does that mean I can call you Maxie?"

So he had been listening in on the previous conversation. Which wasn't that hard considering he was transgenic and had been sitting only two tables down.

"Hell no. Only one person I know can, in my unit back home. His name is Ben…designation 493."

"Really? We must have been twinned."

Suddenly he smirked and I felt a prickle of foreboding for his next words.

"Then you've 'seen' me naked. I feel so violated, and I don't even have your twin for comparison."

His face was a comical mask of fake hurt, regret, and sadness, as if I'd wounded him in some dastardly way.

_Dastardly way?_

"Actually no. I've seen your face, but from what I can tell that's covered by your clothes…" I let the sentence hang, gazing at his body again, giving a soft sigh and shake of my head.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," I shrugged it off, giving a cherubic smile, and starting in on my cheesecake as I'd finished the rest of my lunch.

Oh…my…Blue Lady.

Cheesecake has definitely become one of my favorite food groups now. I practically purred in delight and licked my lips to capture as much as I could salvage, forgetting for a moment the current goings on, as I was enthralled in the amazing tang of pure cream cheese goodness.

"So what's yours?"

"My what?" my head was still involved in the wonderful new sensation and flavor that was cheesecake.

"Name and designation, silly," Dante nudged me.

His eyes were sparkling too, and I knew he'd help me with whatever mischief I'd think up. He was also laughing at my lapse of attention.

"Ah yes, those. Max, alias Katarina, designation 452. Anything else you need to know?"

"Age, weight, location," he joked.

"What's the matter, you planning on proposing or what? What's with all the twenty questions, you taking a survey?" I kept my face as deadpan as possible, but I don't think I fooled him one bit.

"No…just keeping my options open. You look too young for my tastes anyway, too skinny, and apparently too far away…you know what they say about dating local girls," he winked.

"Yeah, stay away from them, they might be related."

He gave an incredulous laugh at my rejoinder, and the lunch bell rang, signifying the end of the lunch period.

"Gotta blaze, see you later," I stood up, ready to take my tray to the disposal unit, and rejoin my class.

"Sure thing…. Maxie," and 'Richard', aka Dick, aka Alec, headed off toward his class, Dante tagging along after giving me a look and Neela a quick grin.

"Max, I can't believe you said all that!" Nessie wondered, awe and a little incredulousness tingeing her voice.

"Kat is my name," I reminded her aloud, feeling a little guilty at having broken the 'use only your alias at school Max' rule on the very first day of school.

Well, it wasn't my fault, Dante screwed it first, but that didn't matter. I was CO and everything was my fault. Hazards of the position.

"Besides…he seemed to enjoy it. No harm, no foul."

"I can't believe you said all that!" Neela squeaked softly but loud enough all us gathered transgenics could hear.

"That was X5-_494_! _My_ C.O.! The _best_ of the _best_!"

"Really?"

_Best of the best huh? Hmm…I believe it. After all, isn't Ben part of the best as well?_

"Really," Mara drawled the word snidely, giving an exaggerated nod and roll of her eyes.

I whirled around quickly, the others dodging instinctively out of my way, so I was standing and invading the hell out of her personal space.

"Do you have a problem with me, Mara, or is it just a defect in your sequencing? If so, let's get it all out in the open because I will not put up with this all year."

"How dare you-!"

"No, how dare _you!_ You think that just because you have this attitude that you can just bully other peoples around? I have news for you sweetheart; you aren't going to bully me, aight? 494 or not, I will open up a can of whoop ass on your lazy tranny sista hide if you so much as give a peep of sarcasm, do I make myself clear? I am a master of sarcasm, so I know what it is when I come across it. Clear?"

Mara looked about ready to explode, but after a not so gentle nudge in the ribs from Neela, she gave a grudging 'yes' muttered under her breath.

"That goes for the rest of you, but somehow, I get the feeling y'all won't be the problem."

_No, the problem it seems will be going to the same school that the clone/twin of Ben is attending._

_Oh, Blue Lady, help._


	12. FLASHBACKS

A/n: I had to bring Alec in…that's how the chapter just flowed out, though I had been planning on bringing him in at a later time.

It has been brought to my attention that Max's rejoinders in the last chapter were very much like Her Originalness, O.C. Well…good for me! Personally, I like a sassy Max, always figured she'd be this way growing up. Since this is my story and AU, I get artistic license so there:b A big rassberry to y'all! Special thanks to Northernmoon for beta-ing this chapter.

So without further ado, I, KiaraAlexisKlay, do hereby start the Disclaimer. That said Klay has no rights to the Dark Angel franchise, despite longings to own them. That being said, here's the next chapter…enjoy!

FLASHBACKS 

I was never so happy to hear an alarm bell as I was that first day of school. I couldn't help the extra spurt of energy as I gathered up Nessie and what supplies I owned, making our way to the door.

Classroom doors burst open as hundreds of students poured forth like water gushing from a broken dam, cramming the halls. Their excited shouts and chatter were an offense to my sensitive ears. Grimly I shoved my discomfort back, I'd have to get used to it eventually, no sense complaining.

Our cross-country brethren joined Nessie and I; as a group, with one sullen Mara, that we forged our way through a streaming mass of pre-adolescent humanity toward the beckoning summons of freedom represented by the double hatches ahead.

"So how did you like class?" I questioned as we finally escaped into the glorious open air.

"We were supposed to like it?" Neela replied a little too innocently and Mara rolled her eyes.

The feeling of claustrophobia I'd been having receded the instant I stepped outside; I felt as if I could finally breathe again.

Unconsciously I started walking toward the pre-arranged pick up site, and the others tagged along, obviously going the same way. Nessie stuck to my right, and Scott managed to come up to my left; Glen, Neela and Mara made up the rear, fanning out behind in whatever formation they could.

I slowed up, the group in front of us stopped and chattered and spread out so that we had to make our way around them, and I carefully found us a passage out. My eyes flicked around, scanning for anything and everything and nothing in particular, just searching.

There were so many people, mostly students of all ages and sizes and colors and dispositions. The three major schools joined together had combined to form a literal mass of adolescent humanity all swarming to escape the confines of the buildings. Why they didn't have different dismissal times for each high, middle, and elementary was beyond me.

"I keep hoping someone will yell 'Eye's front!'" Glen remarked, setting us to laughter, and even Mara couldn't help but twitch her lips at that.

"They'd probably just ignore them then dissolve into chaos once more," Scott moaned, throwing his hands in the air theatrically.

I gave him a playful cuff on the shoulder out of habit while the others chuckled: I think it surprised him as much as it surprised me, but I tried not to let my embarrassment show.

What? Like he never roughhoused with his unit before. Didn't he?

I fought the urge to apologize, and just shrugged it off, hating that this was the umpteenth time I felt defensive today and I was really starting to resent that. If he'd been one of my brothers, hell even Dante or Petra, that's what I would have done. What's done is done, and what's said is said. Not like I could turn time back.

A voice in my head told me that soldiers did not complain nor look back on their decisions and actions with regret; aside from being counterproductive it was detrimental to the successful completion of the mission.

That this voice sounded remarkably like Zack and the Colonel scared me. How it happened, I don't want to know or figure out, bad enough that what it said was true. And _that_ scared me even more than the blending of my two C.O.'s voices.

_Get a grip, Max,_ I silently chastised myself. _This is only the end of the first day of school, how bad could it possibly get?_

"Incoming!"

The shout brought eight years worth of training to the fore and my body was taking action even as my mind was processing the familiar command. I found myself slapping the deck, hugging it to appear a smaller target, peripherally aware of five other bodies following my example in the space of one heartbeat to the next, having jumped into soldier mode as if someone had thrown a switch. They were doing as I was, searching for any sign of hostiles or abnormalities to warrant the command.

The trees and shrubs lining the cool walkway and sidewalks obstructed most of my view, but my quick pass showed me that my little group wasn't the only one to have taken cover. Nor were they confined to our age group; from the youngest to the oldest, they took action.

_You can always tell where the family is._

I used one of the Colonel's forbidden words at the idiot who thought the combining the schools was a good idea: not only was there a large area with numerous hiding places, there were just too many damn people around.

A sound like gunfire erupted and I ducked as low as I could, gliding in a low crawl across the sidewalk toward the better cover of shrubbery.

I had a terrible flashback then, of a different time in another place at another wooded area, where I lost something very dear with sounds just like that.

_-flashback-_

"_Noooo!" X5-732 –Vada- screamed in pain and horror. _

_Her eyes were wide and dilated, tears streaming unabashedly and unchecked, her mouth open and panting as she tried to take in air._

_X5-751's -Ferro- eyes were rolled up in his head, and his body was limp, as the laughing X4 finished his grisly work. The last terrible crack as he snapped the remainder of Ferro's spine, his body giving spasms as muscles that didn't know they were dead yet jerked in reflex._

_Shasta -X5-588- was shrieking in agony, from where she hung impaled on some sharpened branches, the wood dripping with her life's force and her chest heaving as blood and fluid filled her lungs and her mouth. Remarkably, she was still living as she struggled against her invasive restraints._

_Kyle's –X5-274- torn and dismembered body was scattered across the clearing, the Fours who had done the dirty work cheering and yowling to themselves, oblivious to the heartache of their victims, we the little X5s of Unit 2._

_Vada keened a wailing cry that would have put a Banshee's to shame, the sound bringing every hair on my body to attention quicker than the trainers snapping 'Eye's front!'._

"_Anomalies!" X5-534 –Kane- shouted his grief and fury, and he rushed to avenge his dead brother._

"_Freaks!"_

_Davida-X5-411- joined her sparring partner, shouting Massai obscenities. Together, the pair were some of our best fighters, and they came at the X4s with a vengeance._

_It was like looking at some strange and fearsome dance, for Davida and Kane, black and white, cream and coffee, jumped and blurred and twirled to inflict as much damage as possible. The Fours seemed a bit taken aback, but mostly amused at their actions._

_They managed to get in some good hits, but we were still babies almost, and the Fours were just about grown. But then Davida and Kane tag-teamed on one of the females, shattering her wrist and cracking ribs, you could hear the crunch as the bones broke. The C.O. barked a command and two of those terrible beasties raised their weapons and fired._

_I screamed like Vada had done for Ferro, my voice joined by others of my group in a haunting chorus that disturbed the stillness of the forest. _

_The X4s had us outclassed, outmanned, and outgunned. They were older, more experienced, and less forgiving than the other X-series._

_While my Unit was armed with the typical M-16 assault rifles, the Fours were equipped with sub automatic machine guns, and I watched in terrified horror what one of those could do to someone firsthand._

_Davida and Kane were cut down in half by the barrage of projectiles, and even then, the Fours didn't let up until their corpses were so filled with holes and gore and blood and…and other things, and they weren't moving._

_-flashback-_

Juvenile laughter sounded in the sudden shrieks of protest and the sound of squealing tires came to us as a carload of teenage males with the top down came screeching out the parking lot.

"Seniors rule…. MORONS!" the whooped and catcalled as they tore off down the street in a squeal of tires and smoke and the grinding of gears.

The scent of sulfur assailed my nose and I recognized it: firecrackers. Freaking _firecrackers_!

My eyes glared at the retreating vehicle, telescoping in on the license plate number, noting the make and color of the car, and just who the idiots were.

I felt foolish but at the same time proud of my instant response to perceived danger. It irked me that I was fooled by some childish prank, but I was pleased that Nessie and the others had reacted so swiftly.

It didn't help that some kids were laughing, having either known of or recognized the stunt for what it was.

My eyes darkened with a feral heat and my lips thinned back into a harsh, contemplative line. I felt an intense outrage, mainly because I was still in the aftereffects of that terrible day, and I knew I was growling as I felt my chest and throat vibrate with the action. I wasn't the only one.

Nessie looked ready to kill. I mean she looked as if she was a few seconds away from literally taking off after the car and hunt the boys down.

Neela was absently rubbing the shoulder that she landed on: if looks could kill, the whole car and cargo would have exploded. Scott and Glen sent dirty looks their way, and Mara was muttering dire implications.

In this one case, I agreed with Mara. She may be an arrogant, attitude-riddled bitter girl as her name suggested, but we agreed on one thing: payback.

"Everybody okay?" I asked, taking a quick glance to inspect my companions. I rose into a cautious crouch, wary of any more pranks. So far the only activity was of students milling around or picking themselves up.

"Yeah, fine," Scott declared, disgusted.

He dusted his new shirt and trousers free of the dirt and leaves that had attached themselves to him.

"Peachy keen and all that glitters," Glen remarked with a grin.

I arched an eyebrow; I didn't think that was the correct phrase, but who was I to argue?

"So am I, just annoyed," Neela was still rubbing her arm, but she was just brushing herself off now.

She too had landed on the side with all the dirt, now a tad dirty and not looking happy about it.

"I'm going to hunt those jerks down and shove those firecrackers up their butts and see how they like it," Mara huffed, glaring vengefully in the direction the car had disappeared in.

"I take it you're fine then. Nessie?"

"Fine," she murmured in a distracted tone, her eyes glazed over, staring at nothing in the distance.

I recognized that look. I'd born that look and seen it on the faces of my family all too often. It meant that she was remembering something, something terrible. I usually got it when I was reliving the deaths of the Lost Ones, or after a particularly nasty Psy-Ops session.

"Nessie," I repeated softly but firmly, to let her know I was near and approaching.

I came in slowly and from the side so she could see me with her peripheral vision, that even in flashback mode she'd respond to.

Her eyes were still unfocused as they unconsciously tracked my movement, caught in the grip of some powerful, vivid memory.

"X5-678, snap out if soldier!" I bit out harshly, low enough passerby couldn't hear.

The familiar authoritive tone and command did the trick to snap her out of whatever memory had gotten a hold of her.

I waited several heartbeats, allowing her time enough to regain herself, and saw the almost visible return of Evanescence from the netherworld, as she pulled herself together.

"Max?" she asked, eyes wide and trembling to match the shake in her voice.

I probably did the most unsoldierly action I could have taken, opening my arms, to which she went gladly, laying her head against my chest and squeezing her arms around my waist tightly. She whimpered softly, as if only in my arms could she let out all the pain and fright, and I stroked her back in soothing circles.

Hey, when I had nightmares it worked when Ben used them to comfort me, so why shouldn't it with her?

I held her for a few moments, just rubbing her back, not saying anything else but softly humming a tune I remembered Lark singing.

Nessie continued to shake and I thought desperately, _Oh, Zack, help me, what do I do?_

_Zack looked at me, looking over his shoulder, as if he were indeed right there by my side._

"_Max? What's wrong?"_

_The concern in his tone thrilled me in ways I couldn't describe. _

"_Oh, Zack, I don't know what to do! She looks up to me as her commanding officer, but she's still shaking!"_

_Since this was my 'vision' self, I didn't feel the need to dock my feelings or stem the panic that flooded my voice. Besides, this was _Zack_ I was talking to. He knew _everything

_My big brother and C.O. glanced around to take in the situation, noting me holding the still quivering Nessie._

"_That's one of your detail?" Zack's arched eyebrow spoke volumes and I bristled._

"_She's having a flashback because some idiots set off a firecracker and caught us off guard," I retorted, feeling the sudden need to defend her. _

_The mention of her flashback reminded me of my own and something in my expression must have given it away._

_Zack's eyes softened, and the stern line around his mouth eased, and slowly he began to smile. Somehow, he knew the memory I had undergone, and he understood. I was amazed at the relief I felt, and my heart lifted at the smile and I caught my breath, waiting._

"_You're doing fine, baby sister," he soothed, running a hand over my hair and my cheek, and lingering back toward my hair. _

_My real hair. I was proud that my hair had grown so quickly. Back home we would have reported to the barber every week in order to keep it shorn to the proper length, so having a cap full of my own hair was amazing. It was so soft, which was probably why Zack was combing through it._

"_Really?"_

"_Your presence is soothing her and being there will make a difference. Be patient," and here Zack's smile became full-fledged at his oft-repeated reminder. _

_I made a face at him. So I was known to be a tad impatient. Was that a crime?_

_Zack chuckled._

"_You're doing good, Baby, I'm proud of you. C.O.," he whistled appreciatively._

_I preened at this rare compliment. Zack hardly ever praised us so openly, or with so much affection or emotion apparent. A double compliment, and my heart swelled with pride and delight. _

_He had smiled. He had actually smiled!_

_That was the last, sweet sight I saw before he started to fade away and I had an impression of someone-Zack-ruffling my hair once again._

"It's going to be okay, shh…" I murmured, rubbing her back in soft circles. The trembling had lessened somewhat, and close as we were I could feel her gradually starting to relax tense muscles.

My humming had turned into a soft, growling purr that started in my core and wound its way through my body and out my throat. It had always helped me to hear that purr, it touched more than just my human side, but went down to the animal that needed comforting just as badly as the human.

That purr more than anything relaxed Nessie quicker than I'd thought possible. I smiled gently. I hadn't known how she'd respond to my purring; as far as I knew my family and I were the only ones who purposefully indulged our animal sides. Granted it was more Ben's idea than mine, but hey, who's keeping track of whose idea it was.

I caught the look on the others' face as I turned my head toward them. Glen looked on with unabridged fascination; Scott had a quizzical look on his face, Neela looked confused, and Mara just looked skeptical.

I didn't know how to address them or the questions I could see in their eyes so I turned my attention on what I could deal with. I started to loosen my grip, keeping that soft purr going, and gently started to ease away. I kept my arms loosely around her, letting it be her choice whether to back away or not.

Petra and Dante sort of took that decision away as they came waltzing on over. They separated from the group they had been in, Dante nodding a greeting at the four, having met them already, but his grin was directed at a now blushing but pleased looking Neela.

Petra barely acknowledged the four as his eyes centered in on the still fragile Nessie, and he came to stand right beside us.

"Nessie?" he reached over and touched her arm, amber colored eyes flashing concern.

Mara gave a sudden intake of breath as she caught sight of Petra, awe and admiration of the oldest X5 in her gaze, but no one was really paying attention to her. I was focused in on Nessie and Petra.

Traitorous thing that she was, she abandoned the one who had given immediate comfort, and walked into Petra's waiting arms. He tightened his hold and brought her close, crooning softly to her and rubbing her back and shoulders much like I had done, and she purred back.

She hadn't done that to me.

Petra looked startled for a moment at the purring bundle in his arms, but that lasted only a second, as some instinct kicked in and he added his own distinctly male purr to the mix. He wore a tender smile as he mimicked her mimicking me, and I was pleased that they had caught on to it so quickly.

I couldn't hold back a rueful smile, and found myself being laughed at by Dante.

"How soon they forget those who held them up," he teased me, chuckling.

"I guess I'm not that appealing to her," I shrugged, grinning.

"Aww…come on Kat," he made an effort to call me by alias, "You're appealing…just not to most people on first meeting."

"Amen to that," Mara snorted, Neela stomping on her foot, holding and meeting the glare directed her way.

I raised my eyebrows at that, but still grinning, I replied to Dante.

"I seem to recall you thought I was _very_ appealing at our first meeting, you ass," I laughed at him, bringing our first introduction to mind.

_I'd been in the halls at night, my Shark D.N.A. keeping me awake, and I had been bored. Jondy and Zane were cuddled together and she was actually sleeping the little traitor._

_So I had wandered around the silent halls of Manticore, made all the more eerie by how absolutely still the air had been. Not even the loud clomp, clomp, clomp of feet marching in sync filled the silence._

_As you can imagine, I was quite surprised when I heard a noise coming softly from one of the empty classrooms. Gathering up my nerve, I went to investigate. Curiosity killed the cat._

"_Hello…sweetness," a voice had drawled and I reacted without thinking, foot snapping up in a kick that caught the speaker on the side._

"_What was that for?" he hissed with pain. I paused long enough to look at the speaker, who was slightly bent over, protecting his bruised rib cage._

"_Who are you?" I hissed back, wary. He was dressed in the Manticore sleepwear and his hair was buzzed, so I knew he was X-series._

"_In trouble, both of you!" We both winced at Trainer Webster's sudden appearance, and followed him obediently as he marched us down the corridor I knew from experience led to Solitary._

_I gave the unknown transgenic a long, lingering glare, and the brat only gave me a delighted, mischievous grin in return._

"You seem to be unduly fascinated with asses," a rich, mellow voice laughed at me.

I glared at the sudden appearance of Richard, the Dick aka Alec, X5-494, into what I considered no affair of his.

"Only when they're so apparent you can't ignore them," I muttered back.

Alec gave a deep laugh and I rolled my eyes; I didn't see what was so funny. A few other kids, whom I took for transgenics since Neela and Mara obviously knew them and brightened up considerably around them, joined him and I shifted focus to assess these newbies.

"Smile, it confuses people," he joked, winking at me. He _winked_ at _me_!

Alec grinned, waiting in anticipation for the next words out of her mouth. For some reason he couldn't fathom, the unusual satirical conversation they'd shared after lunch had him craving more. Something inside latched onto bugging her and took great relish in it so he couldn't resist.

"Only when they're blonde and named Dick," came rushing out before I could stop it.

One of the new females started laughing, and Alec gave her a tolerant grin. Her eyes danced with mirth and didn't seem affected by her leader's posturing. If anything, she seemed even more amused.

"Ah…. but you named me Alec, remember? So I don't count," he smirked, turning back to me.

_Ha! Get out of that one, Kitty Kat!_

"Ah…. But your alias is Richard, and Dick is a derivative of Richard, so it does apply."

_Why does he have to look like Ben so much? I can't insult him badly enough without saying the same about Ben!_

I faced him with a hand on one hip, one eyebrow arched, and my head cocked to one side; Zack hated it when I stood like this. Which was why I had started doing it in the first place and it'd developed into a habit.

Alec looked as if he'd say something but a sudden car horn honking grabbed our attention.

"Yo, foreign people, let's go!" Wes's deep, sibilant voice shattered whatever it was that Alec and I were engaged in.

"That's our ride! It was a pleasure meeting you, _ma cherie,_" Dante bowed low to Neela, grinning at her blush.

He didn't see the inscrutable look Alec gave to him as he was already on his way to the van. I caught it, and held his look, raising my eyebrows and shoulders in a shrug.

Petra and Nessie were next, and I followed, giving a parting nod to the five transgenics I knew and entered the van.

We were silent as Wes pulled away from the curb and entered the flow of traffic, and we stayed that way for a few blocks.

"Okay…. so, how did you like your first day of school?"

This time I didn't hold back my groan.

"As bad as all that?"

"You have no idea," I muttered.


	13. FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION

**A/n**: I really have to start putting these things at the end of the chapters, lol. My disclaimer is as stands: I don't own Dark Angel, no profit (though I sure could use it, hehe) is being made, and all you reviewers are awesome! Oh, okay, yes, I also took one line from the movie _The Island_. I don't own that either.

**FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION**

"Homework, if you have any!"

"Aye, sir!" Dante sassed as he leapt out of the van, pack slung over one shoulder, a grin to match Wes' on his face as he took off for the apartment. He was going so fast he dodged right through the gaps in the steadily misting rain, or so it seemed.

The silence of the van apparently hadn't affected his ever-present optimism any or so it seemed.

"That boy," Wes grumbled good-naturedly.

"Do a bunch of forms count?" I groused, sliding across the van seat. The door on my side wouldn't open; it must be broken or have a bad connection.

We genetically engineered supersoldiers were in the back, as Wes, Amanda, and the van wouldn't have been able to survive an all out transgenic war for 'shotgun'.

"I meant homework for you, not me," he chuckled.

"Why? It's _fun_ and _exciting_," Nessie sniggered, looking at me meaningfully, from the safety of Petra's arm. She gave a shake of her head as her blonde locks weighted down with the sprinkle of water, succeeding only in making some of it stick to her cheek.

"Say that again in that voice and I will have no alternative but to skin you, grind your bones into dust for a poultice, send your canned flesh to starving orphans in a third world country, and use your tendons and ligaments for rope to hang our 'beloved' teacher with."

"Surprising," Wes arched an eyebrow, following the three of us kids in Dante's wake. We hurried to get out of this freezing drizzle.

That hyperactive free spirit was at the apartment door by now, dancing on his heels impatiently, wanting inside and having to wait for us.

"A little overdone," Petra agreed, one arm still harboring Nessie, the other hefting both of their packs.

"Watch your proximity, you two," Wes warned, giving the two a look they were well to follow.

"I aim to please," I gave a mock-bow from the waist, ascending the stairwell to join the still-dancing Dante.

"C'mon you slowpokes, I want to get my _homework_ done," he teased, rolling his eyes.

"At least someone enjoyed school," I gave him a glare I was only half kidding.

"Gotta go, son? Doing the pee dance?" Wes laughed as he took his time finding the card key. I rolled my eyes; it was right there in his wallet plain to see.

"Huh?"

"He means do you have to use the head to relieve yourself so-silly." I gave his hair a quick ruffle, hoping no one would notice my slip of the tongue. I almost said soldier.

"Oh. No, sir, I do not have to liquidly relieve myself, I just want to get in," Dante gave a charming grin that would have had more success on Neela. Wes just let us all in.

We converged into the kitchen/dining room area, spreading out our various packs and paperwork. Wes just gave the stacks of processed wood material a mournful look, muttering something about hating paperwork on his way to grab an after school snack I was sure was more for his benefit than ours.

"Look at all those papers! It's like buying a new car or closing on a house all these forms," he shook his head. But he had snagged a pen from somewhere, and took a seat at the table with us.

"Yes, we're just so expensive," I quipped dryly; ignoring the cough of mirth from the others, looking at my own paperwork while Wes flicked my ear.

"Yes, yes, you are and don't forget it."

"Where's Amanda?" Petra inquired, sorting through his stack.

"Seattle facility. One of us is required to report, and this facility is the closest, so we report to the local director."

"Like the Colonel?" I asked, stacking my own papers.

"If he's the head of your facility than yes, she is, only this facilities director is a piece of work. Fake hair job that looks nasty but cost almost as much as one of you, horrible make-up, a personality that would make Hitler look like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, and one universal sized ego. I'm glad Amanda's doing the reporting, not me."

"But you have to do our paperwork," Dante pointed out, stacking his own papers in neat little piles according to what he deemed were the more important ones.

"She has to do more than this _and_ deal with Renfro. I got lucky."

Renfro. Director Renfro. This was the second time I'd heard that name. I filed that information away in the back of my mind, finishing finally with all the forms and waited with the rest of my detail for Wes to complete them. He started counter-clockwise, taking Dante's on first, then Petra's, Nessie's, and finally mine.

"You don't have to stare at the walls or be so quiet," Wes commented, not looking up from some papers he was signing.

"Well, what would you have us to do sir?"

"Do some laundry, clean the house, exercise, start dinner, watch some TV…. anything's better than shutting down like robots."

I think he was joking, but I didn't wait around to find out. With a few quick hand signals we split off from the table, each to an assigned task. Between the four of us, by the time Wes had reached my stack of papers, the house was sparkling, what little dishes there had been were finished, laundry was put in the wash, dried, folded, and put away, the floor were swept, the carpets and rugs vacuumed, the furniture and knick knacks dusted and polished, and Dante and Nessie were investigating the cupboards, wondering how to make dinner while Petra came up to throw his dirty polish rag in the garbage.

"So, how was your day?" Nessie began conversationally, asking neither of the boys in particular.

"It was okay, kinda boring," Dante shrugged, but his smirk said something had happened.

"What did you do?" Petra groaned as he joined Nessie in looking through the fridge.

"I didn't do anything," Dante said all too innocently, grabbing some cookware.

"Yeah, right," I quipped, entering the kitchen. "What are you all making?"

"We have no idea," Nessie informed me, grinning from around Petra's lean build.

"It's all Wes' fault, he gave us vague directions, saying only 'cook dinner'," Dante sniggered.

I grabbed a slim booklet of Campbell's Soup Easy To Make Recipes and tossed it at the smirking boy.

"Cook dinner," I grinned nastily at him, laughing at those wondrous lavender eyes that pouted back at me with matching sulky lips.

"What are _you_ going to do?" he asked as I leaned my rear end against one of the counters.

"Observe and oversee like a good commanding officer," I laughed.

"Then that should be my job, move over," Petra gripped my shoulders and relocated me so our positions were reversed, me in front of him while he leaned nonchalantly against the counter, mimicking my laid back stance.

"Oh, no you don't _chico_, _vamonos!_"

"_Chico?_" Nessie repeated, giggling. "Isn't it supposed to be _chica_?"

"Only if he were a girl and I wouldn't insult the feminine gender that way."

"Ouch!" Dante laughed, adding a mixer to his growing pile of cooking paraphernalia.

"I wouldn't say much if I were you pixie boots," I warned, my voice taking on a growling edge with our playfulness.

"Pixie boots!"

"You can't call Dante a pixie!" Nessie spoke up, gathering some of the ingredients for Chili Chicken Pasta Topper, from the Campbell's recipe book.

"_Thank_ you, Nessie."

"Pixie's don't have lilac eyes. He must be a faery."

"Fairy!" Dante exploded, indignant.

"Not fairy, _fae_ry. There's a difference dear, Dante," Nessie sweetly informed him, reading and memorizing the recipe. "Do we have any chicken?"

"Only if you count Dante."

"What's with targeting me?" he demanded, spatula in one hand as he put his hands on his hips in an all-too-familiar gesture.

Petra laughed, throwing his sun zapped hair back, chest rumbling with the action. It was amazing what a week out from under the normal trainers and routine had done for us, for our personalities.

"I wouldn't be laughing, you cat-eyed Tiger boy," he grumbled, alternately glaring at us three gathered in the small kitchen.

"Better a mysterious cat-eyed tiger boy than a lilac faery," Petra laughed, putting an emphasis on the _fae_ in faery.

"It's not my fault!"

"It snot?" I asked, and Nessie crowed in laughter.

"_Not_. It's. _Not._" Dante punctuated this by clanging his pot of water down on the stove burner.

"Sounds like there's way too much fun going on in this kitchen," Wes commented, getting up from the dinette room chair and looking back at us behind him.

He groaned in relief as he stood and stretched, finally complete with our first day school forms.

"There is…at _my_ expense," Dante huffed, sending Nessie into another fit of giggles. Wes gave a soft smile, and then flicked his eyes over to Petra and I.

"Nessie and Dante can handle the kitchen and dinner, why don't you two find something else to do until dinner?"

"Sure," I stood up, Petra right behind me, missing Nessie glance over to follow his progress out.

"What do we do now?" Petra asked in a low tone that Wes wouldn't be able to overhear.

"We could always watch TV," I suggested, grinning.

I lead the way to the small living room area and flopped down on the couch, not caring if it wasn't proper manners or etiquette. I even curled my feet up underneath me on the couch, though I did make sure my shoes were off beforehand.

Petra spilled over onto the other side of the long couch. I say spilled because Petra never did anything as mundane or common as _slump_. He poised, or lounged, or arranged himself, but he never, ever slumped.

His legs were coltish right now, a foreshadowing of the height he would achieve upon maturation, which would be considerable given their current length and Manticore's predisposition toward hiring men no less than six feet, the Colonel seeming an exception.

I picked up the remote, as it was right by my hand, and flicked on the television. I flipped through several channels, boring college sports channels, finally settling on the TV Guide channel to see what was on.

"There's a movie," Petra commented, pointing. "_Predator_, with an Arnold Swartzennagger, circa 1987."

"Sounds good. It's just starting too."

I flipped to the station, and settled deeper in the plush couch, making myself comfortable. This seemed like it was going to be a good movie.

* * *

"You are one ugly, mother------" 

"Bleep!" Wes audibly censored the movie, tossing down a handful of air-popped popcorn, drenched with melted butter, and seasoned with an ocean's weight in salt.

"You know, with our super hearing, we could still…"

"Shut up, Dante!" I ordered, grabbing some more popcorn, never taking my eyes from off the screen.

The five of us were gathered around the TV, riveted. The cinematics of the late eighties may not have been on par with today's technology, but the movie and plot line were well written and kept us glued to our seats.

"Picky, picky, picky."

"Hush," Petra 'nudged' him with the foot that Nessie wasn't leaning against. She was in between the two of us in the center of the couch, holding the huge bowl of popcorn in her lap. Dante and Wes were on the floor in front of us, Wes saying he hadn't sat on a floor for a movie in 'too long'.

I licked the butter and salt from my lips, stuffing my mouth again with light, fluffy popcorn goodness. Hmmm…cheesecake and popcorn have definitely become some favorites.

Arnie was being pummeled around by the hulking alien Predator, who I had to admit, was _ugly_. But no more so than some of the anomalies, and I immediately felt bad for having thought the Predator was ugly because he didn't look human.

_Just because you don't have a tail or scales or fur doesn't make you any less a Chimera then they,_ I admonished myself silently.

But he was still ugly.

We watched in silence the duel between the greatest hunters this side of the cinema.

"That couldn't happen!" Nessie objected around a mouthful of popcorn.

We were now at the part where the Predator, in true ego bruised fashion, had just self-destructed his big, bad bomb.

"No way he could have survived! That was a thermonuclear blast! The radiation would kill him," she insisted. "If the debris or sonic wave didn't get him first."

"Actually, that was more of a pulse bomb, not a thermonuclear one, so the risk of fallout wouldn't be there," Wes shrugged as he lifted himself off the floor to the sound of the credits.

We gathered our dishes, popcorn bowls and dinner plates, cups and utensils. I started some dishwater, getting it all soapy with Palmolive Aromatherapy dish soap, letting the nearly blistering water take away some of the chill that had penetrated the coziness of the apartment.

I looked out the window, hands still buried in the sink beneath the water, looking at the sky now dark as night that should have been a few hours away, listening as the raining deluge beat a syncopated rhythm.

"Makes you almost wish for snow instead of being so chilly and damp," Petra commented.

By unspoken agreement, we cleaned up the dinner mess, since the other two had made dinner.

"Yeah. Least in Wyoming you knew the rain and cold would turn into something. Here it's just damp and dreary, no white to look forward to give a new outlook on shapes and images taken for granted."

"That was almost poetic. Why the introspection, madam commanding officer?"

I gave him a sideways glance and wry smile, flicking suds and water in his general direction, chuckling. I turned off the faucet, and then started putting all the utensils in the water.

Nessie and Dante had been considerate and washed the dishes creating dinner as they went along, so I didn't have to worry about sticky pans or a bunch of mixing utilities.

"I guess it's because, I'm bored and it's giving me time to think," I smiled again, hurriedly but efficiently removing the accumulated dinner mess off the utensils, rinsing them off, and setting them in the drainer so Petra could dry and put away.

"You think when you're bored?" Petra laughed, and I rammed him with my hip.

"Laugh it up, fuzzy. Some people actually chose to use what Manticore gave them."

"Ah, let me know who they are so I can give them a medal and congratulate them."

I used the little detachable nozzle to spray Petra, only to get rat-tailed and yip as Petra snapped the damp dishcloth at my exposed flank. My glare promised the gloating former commanding officer retribution, and the next few minutes were spent warily eyeballing each other as we finished up the dishes.

"What are you doing?" I questioned him, grinning, as I walked around him seeing he kept his eyes on me, and his rear protected by the cupboards.

"Staying away from you."

"In a kitchen this size? Good luck."

But I let him pass, if only because I was too lazy to think of an appropriate punishment, wanting to get back to the thoughts that had bothered me today. Chief of which, _who_, had bothered me.

"Amanda's home," I called out absently, going to sit back on the couch with Nessie. Petra came in, sat on Nessie's other side, and Dante sat at the other end with me.

Call it instinct, but somehow, we knew that things were about to get more serious now that 'mommy' was home.

"All right, sit…oh, you are eh? Stop doing that," Wes shook a finger in our direction as Amanda walked in.

"What did you do?" she asked, looking pointedly at Wes as she shut the door, locking it.

"Me? I didn't do anything," Wes protested, hands spread out in a 'who, me?' gesture.

"Right," she arched one delicately plucked and shaped eyebrow, looking at us.

Her snapping emerald eyes seemed just a little tired, the skin at the edges of her mouth and eyes looking as if they'd been tight, like she'd been holding back emotion or having a really bad day. The peaches and cream with just a smattering of freckles seemed more creamed and wan, and the vibrant hair seemed to lack…it's aliveness, being all wet from the rain outside. All in all, she looked tired and more exhausted than when we left her this morning.

"You doing okay?" Wes asked, his strange greenish-gray eyes concerned.

There was a marked difference between the two, both clothing and color wise. Whereas Amanda looked like a professional Irish fae, with her smooth alabaster skin and fiery hair all accented by the business skirt suit, Wes looked like the cool kid from the block. He wore a gray 'hoodie' with the Raiders insignia emblazoned on the chest, a pair of worn looking jeans, some dark Nikes with a navy swoosh, and looking utterly comfortable. The colors highlighted the dark of his skin, and his hair had dried from the light sprinkle earlier into tight curls.

We all watched from our places on the couch, utterly silent and still, slowly slipping into alert soldier mode, waiting. I felt, maybe if we're quiet, they won't hold anything back and get distracted.

"Just the usual hazards of spending an extended amount of time in the presence of that bia-, uh, witch," she hastily corrected herself before saying something else.

Wes gave a sympathetic smile, assisting her as she took off her coat and set the briefcase by a chair facing our couch.

"I see y'all got started without me," she smacked Wes upside the head as she passed him, ignoring his look to take the comfortable chair to leave Wes grabbing a chair from the table.

"You're welcome," he grumped, but Amanda didn't pay him any mind, she was busy looking at each of us, holding our gazes for several long seconds, quietly gathering her thoughts.

"Wes, do you have the video?"

"Yes, ma'am," he exaggerated in a drawl remarkably similar to Amanda's.

That earned him another smack and a curt 'shut-up'. I was fascinated at this interaction between the adults, but at the same time I dreaded, hearing that word 'video'. Nothing good ever came from videos on a mission when a handler used that tone of voice.

It brought to mind one of my first missions, a group effort that had paired Jondy, Krit, Ben, Zane, Jace, and I with one of then Staff Sergeant Vaughn's Special Forces members.

* * *

_"Show them the video, Haskell," Sergeant Pierce ordered, stern eyes never leaving our expressionless faces. He looked for, but didn't recognize, the barest flicker of our curiosity._

_The subordinate, Haskell, 'yes, sir'ed' and left the room._

"_The video, sir?" Zane, as acting Commanding Officer –much to Jace's dismay- inquired._

"_That's right Two Zero Five. Now hush."_

_Haskell came back with a videocassette, unmarked, just a plain, everyday videocassette you might find at any convenience or grocery store._

"_Watch and observe," we were commanded, and obediently, we focused in on the screen as the junior officer put the video in the VCR and pressed 'play'. _

_A series of shots showing mangled bodies filled the screen, panning out to see they were part of a mass grave, in every sense of the word. The gaping hole spread out for what the astonished narrator commented on was nearly an eighth of a mile in circumference. _

_The camera zoomed in on a few of the pitiful bodies, now bloated and discolored from a combination of lime, dirt, debris, and scavengers. Many of the bodies were of the elderly, or children, young children no older than me and Kavi and my siblings, or those handicapped or injured._

_I don't know how any of us held it together. We'd of course seen photos similar in our history classes, but this was the first time it ever went into such…detail. I heard Jace, stalwart by-the-numbers Jace, take several rapid breaths and it made me feel better in some vicious way._

_"This is the objective: take down the bastards responsible for this genocide. Any objections?"

* * *

_

"Ma'am, Amanda, the video?" Nessie ventured. I wasn't the only one relieved when Amanda only smiled instead of snapped.

"Yes. There's some interesting footage you'll be interested in."

When Amanda's voice smoothed over and lost all trace of that lovely accent that was well and truly hers, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I think I would have preferred her to yell at Nessie.

Wes was placing a video -another nondescript one- into the VCR, switched the TV to the proper station, and pressed the play button. He stepped back to take his seat, settling in to watch.

There was a few moments of that static bar thingie that always happens at the beginning and end of tapes, but it soon snapped into focus. I wasn't too surprised to recognize the inside of van, taking note that this was filmed this morning.

"Hey, that's us," Dante spoke in surprised, before remembering he shouldn't say anything.

"Is it?" Amanda mused, mouth pressed in a firm line, eyes flicking back to the screen.

"Surveillance video. Wes was bugged," Petra murmured below human level, but we transgenics nodded imperceptibly. I couldn't help feel a twinge of betrayal, even though I knew Wes and Amanda were only doing their jobs.

I watched with one eye the entire conversation in the morning ride to school, the other watching my friend's reactions. Petra looked grim, Nessie stricken, Dante looked as if hell had frozen over, and Wes and Amanda were observing us.

Always watching, always there. How much will they tell? How much do they know? 

I was more disturbed with the video, as I saw cuts from three classrooms simultaneously: Dante's, Petra's, and the class I shared with Nessie and the fantastic four. My eyes were drawn to Dante's classroom, on one particular freckled face that I knew as well as my own. Well, at least as well as his twin.

Alec, in all his careless glory, was big guy in the classroom. He seemed to be the center of attention for boys and girls both, drawing them in like moth to flame. Alec, who bore the same hazel eyes which could tell entire stories with one glance; whose smirk was both endearingly familiar and agonizingly unknown.

I felt a gap in my heart, a large, ten-year old with a freckle face and ready story sized gap named Ben. Sixteen other life-sized gaps were adjacent, but his stung the most. Tears found their way to my eyes but I blinked them away so the adults wouldn't see.

The classroom scenes cut to lunch; somewhat fortunately for me, my little eye lock with Alec hadn't been caught on tape, it had been focused in on Dante next to his fourth grade buddies. By the time the camera panned over, Nessie and I were already seated and eating hearty. Looking at us eating made my stomach rumble again though I already had eaten. I could almost taste the velvety cream cheese flavoring on my tongue and I sighed softly.

I wanted more cheesecake.

The camera followed me and Nessie through the halls, not catching any audio, but the message did come across crystal clear on the half of the screen devoted to my class: I was in Mara's face, the others intimidated and backing off.

"A little dominance and submission, Kitty?" Wes asked, but not as if he found it amusing.

"You know it, sir," I quipped to throw him off, receiving a pair of odd looks in return.

_Initial information gathering whilst under informal and non-threatening means,_ my brain recognized and catalogued what was going on.

It was one of the first steps in intelligence tradecraft 101, and a highly effective skill if one were good at it, yielding most of the information gathered by those in espionage without giving away sources or identities.

It also was used in initial interrogation and/or debriefing. Since I doubted we were in any major trouble –yet- I assumed that this was a debriefing. We were being allowed a chance to review the data first, process it, and then endure about an hour or two's worth of lecture on everything you did wrong, with scant bits of praise tossed about.

The video split off into three again, this time I observed Petra in his class, being able to make out what the kids were saying by reading their lips, even if some of the picture was grainy.

"Kr- X5-471!" I caught myself before shouting out Krit's name. I didn't catch the look Wes and Amanda gave each other in my surprise at seeing another familiar face.

"What? Where?" Wes frowned as he played the tape on a slower setting after backtracking.

"There," I pointed to a kid handing Petra's teacher some paperwork. Upon closer examination however, I could see…

"That's not Four Seven One," Amanda began in a surprisingly accurate completion of my thoughts.

"That's his twin Four Seven Two," Wes added. "Alias is Devon Lee Anderson."

'_How the hell did she see that?'_ Amanda wondered, staring from the tape frozen on said transgenics face, and back to the stunned Max.

I was still reeling with the revelation: _Two_ twins in one day?

Krit had a twin, just like Ben has a twin, Alec. Alec and Devon, Ben and Krit. How many more of us are twinned out there? _Everyone_? 

"What's he doing in Petra's class? Four Seven One is only a year and half older than I am, he should be in the third grade at least."

"Um, he's not in Petra's class, he was just delivering some paperwork."

"But he's at this school? Is he assigned to the Seattle facility?"

_Well, duh! If he's there at the school helping deliver paperwork he must be enrolled in the school. But if Alec were Seattle raised, did the same apply for Krit's twin, Devon?_

"Yes and you are not authorized for that last piece of information," Wes answered. It seemed like Wes and Amanda were alternating who answered the questions.

"I take it Devon, designation Four Seven Two, his twin Four Seven One is one of your original unit mates?" Amanda queried.

"Yes."

_We also share enough genetic material to pass as natural brother and sister, don't you see the likeness?_ I wanted to shout but kept my mouth shut.

"So you'd be more familiar with who he was and recognize him as a transgenic on sight," Wes nodded to himself, answering his own questioning statement.

"Yes, sir."

"He looks enough like Max to be _her_ twin brother," Petra commented, his eyes zooming in on the picture. Nessie nudged him, Dante glared at him, and I froze.

"What?" Wes frowned as he looked from the picture of the transgenic on tape to the transgenic on his couch.

There was a significant resemblance in the light Hispanic features, the forehead was just a little longer and square, but the jaw was similar, and the lips…it _was_ like looking at a masculine version of Max.

"Well, I'll be buggered," he whistled. He'd had to squint to make out some of the details.

"Let me see." Amanda leaned forward and studied the still.

She _humm_ed and leaned back in her seat, thoughtful. I didn't trust it.

"Interesting," was all she murmured. I found myself breathing a little easier for no reason I could decipher.

"Regardless, let's finish this."

With that brisk command, she resumed playback on the recorder. We watched in sick fascination the rest of our school day, our rush to the outdoors, and then one camera took off after Dante and Petra as they met up and were held back in the halls by a group of their peers. The second camera angle took off after Nessie and my little group.

It zoomed in as we waited at our spot, jumping slightly as we could hear over the tiny audio the gunshot popping noise; I gazed upon little me and the group dive for cover. My eyes narrowed and I frowned.

"Stop! Go back, slowly, that's good. Now play in slower speed."

I leaned forward and I saw what had caught my attention and most likely that of the trainers. In slow motion you could see that the reaction time between those I now picked out as transgenics and most Ordinaries was significant.

Even the faster reacting Ordinaries were still slow compared to we transgenics who were already on the ground and moving toward better positions before the Ordinary was even starting to move.

"Do you see it?" I questioned my team.

"We moved faster," Nessie nodded, glaring at the jerky seniors who took off out of sight of the camera. I knew what was going on in her mind for it was going on in my own: retribution.

_I know you,_ I warned the unsuspecting seniors quietly.

"A lot faster," Dante agreed. He too, was frowning, as he realized…

"Y'all blew your cover if one knew where to look," Petra stated the obvious.

"We weren't the only ones," I felt the need to point out, motioning to the tape going at half speed.

"But the mission was to blend in. Hitting the deck and moving into combat formations does not 'blend' in for normal children being startled by a prank. We failed," Petra insisted.

"Not only transgenics ducked. There were quite a number of Ordinaries who ducked, far quicker than others. Notice, most of us who ducked had some sort of athleticism in their cover."

"Petra's right. You failed the mission today."

We were effectively silenced as we turned our attention to Amanda who was reclining gracefully in her chair, elbows on opposite arm rests, hands splayed to steeple in front of her. She looked like a Congresswoman, or a lawyer, or the head honcho of some business firm.

"Normal children do not react as quick as you did."

"No, they shout 'incoming' and set off firecrackers," I retorted, ignoring the sharp looks from my handlers.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I believe we succeeded."

"Explain," she clipped out. I felt my spine stiffen in automatic response.

"Ma'am, the cornerstone of our training is to react to all perceived threats in as rapid and smooth manner as possible. Observe, how the group comprised of Nessie, our transgenic companions, and myself. Having known each other less than twelve hours, at the first hint of danger we fall back into the most effective defense possibly, forming up for the best counter to the hazard. Not only us, but other transgenics as well, moving to positions to _protect_ our Ordinary charges despite age or experience. I'd say, as the soldiers we were created to be, we were a success."

The two adults were quiet and respectful during this little speech, nodding, sharing looks that communicated far more than words. I wondered if they could speak to each other using a mind link like my family and I; nah.

Finally, Amanda spoke.

"Your reasoning is logical and not without it's valid points. However, this exercise was designed with the objective of being able to blend in with we so-called 'ordinaries', _regardless of what is taking place around you._"

She paused to let that sink in before continuing.

"So in this instance, yes, X5-452, you failed."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut and let out to be used as target practice on the rifle range.

* * *

_Fail? X5-452 _failed_? I am part of Unit 2, the elite of Gillette, Wyoming. We never fail…_I _didn't _fail.

* * *

I bristled and looked up to meet Amanda's steely gaze with one of my own. I sank into that silent white center where I filled that hollowness with all my feelings and still wasn't filled. All emotion bled out, leaving my eyes as void as the center, and I met her head on.

"How are we to know that the firecrackers were not, in fact, actual gunfire? Should we have just stood there like Ordinaries to be shot like so many targets? Had we, 'blended in' as you put it, we would have been just as dead. And a dead transgenic didn't succeed in their mission to survive now did they? Above all exercise priorities, our mission first and last is to react in an efficient and soldierly manner to neutralize and/or eliminate any danger. We did not fail."

"A bold statement, Four Five Two."

"Truth usually is, Agent Ferrell."

Amanda cocked an eyebrow at the formal title.

"So it is."

Wes decided it was time for him to take over and he jumped in.

"Okay, so you are all aware of what you did and did not perform correctly, right? Right. We will study in depth further on the nuances that we Ordinaries take for granted that you highly and efficiently trained soldiers are not aware. For now, it's time to turn in. Tomorrow we will go over the daily schedule for the duration of this mission. Any questions? Good. Hit the sack."

"Aye, sir!" we chorused softly so as not to be heard, snapping a salute to them both. We filed out single file and semi-marched up the stairway to the loft area where we bunked.

I was silent as I undressed, hearing the others' steady breathing, knowing their thoughts were now as heavy as mine. I knew I might have gotten us all in trouble, at least definitely me, but there was no way I was going to apologize for something that I didn't do wrong!

So maybe we didn't have the whole 'blend in, act like an Ordinary, normal child' thing down pat. We'd only been playacting for today, the other five days we were still expected to act like the spectacular super soldier we were.

How in the name of the Blue Lady above were we supposed to know these things if they don't explain them to us? I scowled, erasing it quickly as I heard the rustling of bedcovers when Nessie crawled into her bunk. We had bunk beds, one bed on the other. I took the top, and Nessie took the bottom, we had the bunk beds since the two rooms of the loft actually used to be one big room before they built a wall to divide it.

"Nessie?" I whispered softly, knowing she could hear me.

"Yes?"

"We didn't fail. You did a good job today soldier. You did a good job."

I could make out her smile in the darkness, and then she rolled over and shut her eyes to sleep. I killed the light switch-_lights!_- and leapt onto my top rack. A few minutes later, Wes checked in on us, said good night, and then left for the boys. He said the same thing, and I could hear his footsteps go down the loft stairs to the other stairway set opposite ours, leading to another loft divided just like ours.

I listened very closely, waiting long, agonizing moments, wishing I could just turn over and fall asleep like the now dreaming Nessie. But no! My thrice-damned Shark D.N.A. just wouldn't let my restless and weary mind settle.

Listening to Nessie's peaceful breathing even, and hearing similar sounds from the boys in the next room, I never felt so alone. The unfamiliar breathing patterns of friends who weren't my family, I keenly missed the presence of my kin. There was no Jondy to stay up all night with, laughing and giggling and gossiping about the guards, staff, and other units.

A stray beam of light from the streetlight outside illuminated part of the room, extending to touch the wall, and a keening ache lanced through me. Ben was not there to make hand puppets on the wall to help soothe me to sleep in accompaniment to one of his fables. He wasn't there to curl around me until the very last moment before reveille, his warmth as comforting as his voice and presence.

I sat up in bed, staring at the far wall, the strip of artificial light, and a longing for the gray familiarity of Manticore. At least there I could wander without getting caught. I had a feeling there might be some hidden cameras and microphones, perhaps even an alarm system that I wasn't aware of. So sneaking out my window was out…for now.

I lay back down with a grumpy sigh, turning to face the wall my bed was against. My hand reached out to touch the smooth textured plaster, feeling the cool against my fingertips, as a pair of tears marked a path down my face.

My fingers traced invisible familiar words that had become as drilled into me as learning how to fight.

* * *

DUTY.

* * *

MISSION.

* * *

HONOR.

* * *

SUCCESS.

* * *

Just before I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to drift asleep, my fingers sketched one last set.

* * *

FAMILY.

* * *

LOVE.

* * *

SIBLINGS.

* * *

ALONE.

* * *


	14. WE ARE FAMILY

A/N: This chapter is going to be a little different, by Reivyn's special request; this will deal with the others of Unit 2. The usual disclaimer applies, I don't own Dark Angel or any of their characters, only the original characters and situations:-b The poem, _You Are Me _, is mine copyrighted to Kristin Hamilton (c) 2006, I created it, if you like, ask me to use it. Another list of things I also don't own are the Laurell K. Hamilton books and hopefully, I won't get in trouble for using quotes from her book, but just in case…I'M GIVING HER ALL THE CREDIT, WHATEVER CREDIT SHE DEEMS NECESSARY! LKH, Anita Blake, is all hers and I don't own them or her ideas in the book! Oh, I also don't own Google either, in case that point comes into question.

**WE ARE FAMILY **

Manhattan, New York

"Hit the rack! School is tomorrow and so is your first report to the local Director! Get moving!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" several pre-adolescent voices chorused together, about facing, and marching out after the dismissal.

"What a jerk," one of the male children muttered, his ebony colored eyes flashing with distaste.

His hair had grown out, and he had kept the very top a little long while the sides were buzzed short, in imitation of the Ordinary soldiers. The extended hair was as dark as his eyes, so much so, you could almost see dark blue and faintly violet highlights, the way of someone with truly black hair.

"Taz," one of the elder females hissed, glaring at him.

She was one of the oldest among the child transgenics and was involved in all the mini-platoon's lives, taking on the role of 'mommy'. She was also the only one who wasn't in awe or terrified of the raven-haired boy's ire.

"Aww, Tinga," Taz pouted adorably, to the other females sighs. Tinga merely arched one dark eyebrow, a contrast to her deep olive complexion, waiting silently.

"Okay, _okay_. I shouldn't have said that…mommy," he cast her an unapologetic grin.

"You're as bad as the Quad Squad," she informed him, already dismissing him and his antics as she split off to join the other females in their dormitory. She prepared herself for bed, aware that the silence of the room and the stares of the other girls were because of her.

She stifled a sigh. Hours on a bus and plane ride to get here, a week of preparation, numerous conversations –albeit usually one-sided as the others were almost afraid of her- and one complete day of school together and they still treated her as if she'd take their heads off at the least provocation.

She'd tried to be friendly, but her efforts were met with a wall of suspicion, fear, and a good dose of disdain for the most part. If it weren't for the fact that Taz was there by some whim of assignment, she'd have felt far more alone and discouraged than she was. Even had she been alone, she wouldn't have given up, she'd never been a quitter. But, still...it was dispiriting to say the least. She couldn't imagine how any of the others –Zack being the exception as always- would handle being completely alone. Taz was annoying as all hell, moping about being separated from Vada and positively green with envy, knowing she was probably eating up all the male attention, but he was still family. He had her back, no matter what.

All this suspicion stemmed from the fact that the majority of her counterparts were from the Wyoming facility, and they had spread the rumor of _them from Unit 2_ very quickly, so even those transgenics from other facilities were wary of her and Taz.

"Despite what you think, I'm not going to kill you," she commented to the room at large, holding back her amused smile as the gathered females gasped.

_Oh, she speaks!_ She mocked them in her mind, fighting a Max-like reaction to roll her eyes and snort.

It was better than a Jondy-Jace-and-Seth reaction to argue and confront the girls. Maybe later, if they continued this charade and pissed her off enough, she'd do that. But not right now. She didn't want to do anything to bring disapproval down on the Colonel, and beating the snot out of the other girls because they wouldn't talk to her –however good it would make her feel- just wouldn't do.

_Soldiers don't have friends; they have partners and associates who aid in the completion of the mission. _

"Good night, ladies," she grinned as she slipped into her covers. "Don't forget to turn of the lights when you're finished."

Taz was in a similar rut. While the guys weren't exactly giving him the silent treatment, neither were they opening up in a solidarity show of male bonding. They cast curious looks his way but were careful to keep their distance.

He'd tried joking; trying to appear harmless (but not _too_ harmless), non-threatening, and approachable… none of it seemed to matter. He'd noticed that the girls were giving Tinga the same conduct and that made him angry on so many levels.

Tinga was a wonderful girl, if she did have a tendency to mother everybody, and he could tell it hurt the friendly transgenic that so many distrusted and hated her based on circumstantial evidence and paranoid speculative rumors without giving her a chance to prove herself otherwise. And that was what made him angry, that his sister was hurting, even just a little, because she couldn't make friends.

Giving the watchful boys a sideways glance, catching one of the guys quickly avert his eyes as they made contact and rush away, he fought a growl that wanted to be released.

Well, so much for making friends. Who needs friends anyway? You can't count on them…family is better. Family is there for you, no matter what.

Taz stripped out of his shirt and tossed it into the laundry bin, padding over to his bunk and little overhead clothing cubicle to grab a clean one. They'd already had showers, but it was only habit to snag a new shirt to sleep in. Much better than those stupid gowns they had to wear back home. Seth had a theory that it was so if the doctors wanted to grab you to run tests on you in the middle of the night-as they frequently did- they didn't have to waste time getting you undressed and gowned. Taz tended to agree with this theory.

"You're 698 aren't you?" one of the boys suddenly spoke up. Taz looked over his shoulders to see one of the smaller boys – 159, he recognized- look at him.

"That's what my barcode reads," Taz shrugged into the new shirt.

It was a creamy khaki color that reminded him of his desert fatigues that had a picture of a huge hulking pissed off looking green man, dressed like a punk/rapper/gangster in cutoffs, sleeveless tee, baseball cap tilted to the side, large necklace and medallion around his neck, and tattoos that said 'Hulk' and 'Marvel' on each arm.

The kid, X5-159, came closer, uninvited, to sit on Taz's bunk and stare at him, his examination making Taz feel oddly like when Zack caught him doing something wrong.

"Bold move, 159, considering. Don't you listen to the rumors from my lovely facility mates? I'm big, bad 698 from Unit 2 who'll wipe the deck with your dead carcass for deigning to speak to me in anything resembling a normal conversational-not confrontational- tone."

Taz gave a roll of his eyes and a snort of loathing at the end of his spiel; he didn't bother to hide the bitter sarcasm or his disgust at their attitude toward him and his sister.

"Thank you, and no, I don't care for rumors don't have much basis for fact. I can see that maybe part of it's true, your unit must be something to earn the rap and fear, but I've spent the last week watching you and your unit mate, and I don't find you scary at all."

"That's cause you haven't seen me with my hair all messed up in the morning," Taz grunted, leaning against the wall to face the room, not liking having his back to unknown elements. His eyes scanned the dorm and saw that all eyes were on him and 159.

159 gave a loud laugh, and that seemed a signal for the others, who came closer to surround the pair.

"Lights out!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" greeted the surly handler, and all jumped into bed, waiting a few minutes, before Taz found himself once again surrounded. While he didn't think they meant him harm, he was wary. He let himself out of his covers so he wouldn't be hindered in case he had to take action, not that he expected any.

"You don't seem so bad," 159 commented, his accent slightly nasal, and he spoke quickly in an inflection Taz had come to recognize as New English, something that all Northerners seemed to acquire.

"Where you from, Curious George?" Taz asked, grinning once he realized the other transgenics' confusion. "Curious George was a little monkey who was so inquisitive, he got into all sorts of trouble and situations."

"Oh. So why call me that?" 159, who Taz dubbed 'George', asked.

"Because that describes you," one of his unit mates sniggered.

"It's called giving you a name, something all our own, based on your personality. I dunno," Taz shrugged. "Naming is more my sister's area of expertise, but it just makes you seem like more, not just a number."

"Sister?" one of the other boys echoed, face furrowing.

"Yup," Taz answered. Before he could elaborate, George interrupted him.

"I have a name," George insisted.

"You do?" Taz was somewhat, surprised, though he supposed he shouldn't have been. He didn't think that any other units had been so…individualized, like his own unit.

"My alias. Isn't that the same?"

It was Taz's turn to laugh, though he made sure to keep it down. Their handler was a mean s.o.b. and Taz had no intention of drawing his ire any more than necessary.

"That's not a name, at least, not a permanent one. My permanent name is Taz, even though on this mission my alias is 'Timothy'." Taz made a face to show how much he liked that one.

"Is that why you called 656 'Tinga'?" the 'sister' boy asked.

"Yup," Taz nodded. "All my family, my Unit, Unit _2_," he added with a sly grin and a wink, "have names."

"And 599 let you?" another boy, Taz recognized him as a Gillette alumni, sneered. "I don't think highly of him as a commanding officer if he did."

"That's alright, 100, he doesn't think highly of you as a commanding officer either."

The boys all snorted and guffawed, as 100 grew red in the face, Taz could smell the rising blood and heat to his face. He kept his pose casual but he was alert if 100 made a move.

"Why…you… little," 100 hissed but George thumped him on the chest.

"Ease up, there. You insulted his C.O. first. If you insulted my C.O. you'd have had a fight on your hands."

The idea of the little, scrawny looking transgenic going after someone who was more than twice his size and weight and skill class was enough to break the tension, and even 100 had to smile, albeit grudgingly.

"So, how about some names…Taz?" George grinned, and Taz couldn't stop the smile on his face. Maybe friends wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Atlanta, Georgia

"You are a pig-headed, by-the-book-Barbie-doll-G.I. Joe-wanna-be who needs to get a good dose of reality!"

"And you are an immature, insubordinate, I'm ashamed to call a _soldier_ who should have been named Peter instead!"

"Was that a compliment, G.I. Jace?"

"In your dreams Bird Boy!"

"Bird boy? Oh, yeah. _Captain_. _Jack. Sparrow_! _My_ dreams _your_ nightmares."

"Grow up!"

"_Never_!"

"Fine."

"Fine."

"_Fine!_ Go to your rack and leave me alone. I don't want to be infected with whatever disease is in control of your mental functions."

"It's called having fun, something that might do you good if you tried it, but _oh dear!_ That wasn't in the textbooks on socializing behavior!"

"Shut up, Jack! Or I'll make you a falsetto for real."

"Make me! I'm sooo scared!"

_TWAPP!_

"Hey! You _hit_ me!"

"Duh, no shit, Sherlock!"

"Omigosh. Jace made a funny!"

_SMACK!

* * *

_

Las Vegas, Nevada

"Huh?" Krit grunted incoherently as he was grabbed by the arms and legs and bodily hauled out of his nice, warm, comfortable bed.

"Not so tough without the rest of your Unit backing you up are you, 471?" one of his assailants sneered.

"Yeah, he's just a little punk, look at how tiny he is!" another sniggered derisively.

If there were two things Krit hated, it was being made fun of for his short stature and being awoken when he had just fallen asleep. The first wasn't his fault, and he hoped to the Blue Lady and whoever spliced his genes that he'd hit a growth and muscled spurt soon. Max and Syl had teased him, saying he must have some bear in him the way he loved to sleep. And he was as grouchy as one too when awakened without cause.

His lips peeled back to bare his teeth in a silent snarl, dark eyes changing to black, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was facing the floor, still struggling, so his attackers missed the signs that they were headed for big trouble.

"Leave him alone, guys, you'll get us in trouble," a boy in his racked hissed urgently, looking at the door with trepidation of the handler coming in.

"Shut up, New York, you don't know what his Unit's done to us," another of the four attackers hissed back, glaring.

"Yeah, we beat the shit out of you for trying to rape one of our own," were his first words, cold as ice and holding quiet menace.

Krit suddenly went limp, and in the few seconds of confusion, he turned the tables. Twisting his right arm around, he freed that appendage from his attacker, twisting the attackers wrist in turn, using the momentum as the assailant instinctively tried to jerk his hand back to land a solid punch to the guys jawbone, knocking him headfirst into a bedpost and consequently, out of the fight.

Using the leverage of his newly freed arm, he arched his back and started twisting and bucking, catching a second boy square in the face, busting his nose and spewing forth dark viscous fluid.

Krit was just as suddenly airborne, an enraged but coolly methodical dervish, going after the remaining two muggers with a vengeance.

The next forty seconds went by in a flurry of movement, grunts of pain, blood splaying, and bones crunching.

"Wow," was all rack boy could say, his eyes wide and his jaw slack in amazement.

"Thank you. Not bad for a tiny punk, eh?" Krit grinned, and then just as suddenly yawned, covering his face with a blood smeared hand. "Damn, I'm beat. Good-night."

Covering another yawn, Krit stepped over the prone forms of his would-be tormentors, fixed his covers, and was soon snoring away, visions of a golden haired little beauty clinging to his side filling his dreams.

* * *

Miami, Florida

"Good-night, Anika."

"Good-night, Zane."

"Good-night, Unit 2, wherever you are."

"Good-night, Colonel, you scare me so."

"Good-_night_, nurse!" _TWAPP!_ "And the doctors too. Oh, you really clonked me there."

"Shut up! Good-night, Nomilies."

"Good-night, my beautiful Agent Milan, Anika-please-don't-hit-me-again."

"Oh, _please_ you two, you've _got _to be kidding!"

…

"_Good-night, X5-818!"_ the twins chorused together, sporting dual impish grins to match two pair of devilishly twinkling green eyes.

"Gah!"

* * *

St. Louis, Missouri

"You all right, Syl?" Eva asked, tucking her little sister in bed, ignoring the whispers and looks directed her way. She merely had to arch an eyebrow in their direction and they hurriedly found other ways to busy themselves. Her status as the top ranking twic and the highest ranked transgenic here automatically thrust her into a leadership role, and she handled the others as she would her own family, only slightly more formal.

"I miss Krit," Syl admitted, so softly, Eva's supersensitive hearing had to strain to catch what was being said.

"Aww, honey, I know. It's okay. You have me…. and Seth," Eva rolled her eyes, grinning, pleased to see the slight upward twitch of Syl's lips at the corner.

Syl had been having trouble coping the last week without the continuous presence of her beloved Krit to cling to. Seth and Eva had done their best, running interference between the handlers, the other transgenics, and now the kids at school. Eva wished she had more classes around those that Syl did, but it seemed that overall, Syl was doing okay. She had at least one other transgenic, a male, in her grade but Eva didn't hold out much hope for him as a suitable companion.

Eva smoothed the gold touched locks out of her baby sister's face, smiling as she felt the baby soft fineness of her hair. She always liked stroking Syl's hair, even when it was buzzed, because the texture was so smooth and delicate, like running your hands through living, individual strands of silk.

"Do you think he misses me?"

"Krit? Of course! He probably doesn't know which is his left and which his right without you by his side."

"You really think so?" Hope sprang forth from her eyes.

"Yeah. He's probably dreaming of you right now, and madder than a roused bear if someone wakes him up."

"Yeah, that sounds like him," the little girl giggled, her entire demeanor changed in an instant, and one could suddenly see the beautiful glow around her.

"Now go to sleep, and dream of dark haired, grumpy bears named Krit."

"All right. Good-night Eva."

"Good-night, Syl." Eva gave in to a sudden urge to kiss the top of Syl's forehead. She smiled and smoothed her hair and cheek one more time, then left to check on the others and seek her own bed.

"Good-night, Seth!" Syl whispered a little louder.

"Goodnight, Syl," his warm, quiet laughter sent unusual shivers down Eva's spine. Seth was usually dark and intense, only Zack could ever match and surpass the hard façade he exuded. But the past couple days, being separated from the rest of the pack and helping to take care of Syl, he'd really opened up some and Eva was fascinated by her older… sibling.

Her inspection complete, she flicked the lights, bathing the room in darkness, lit only by the faint artificial light filtering through the blind covered windows.

She hissed slightly as the cool sheets touched the exposed parts of skin, huddling down and bringing the covers up to her chin.

"Goodnight, Eva," Seth's breath tickled her cheek and Eva gasped, heart thumping wildly.

"G-good-night, Seth," she stammered, knowing he could hear the still fast beat of her heart. She drifted off to the sound of his chuckle in the darkness.

* * *

Chicago, Illinois

"I'm scared. I want Tinga, and Zack, and Max, and the others."

"I know, my sweet little Kavi, I know. I want the others too."

"It's so dark!"

"Kavi, baby brother, we can _see_ in the dark."

There was a short pause, as the youngest member of Unit 2 thought this over.

"It's still dark."

Brin sighed, and turned in her bunk to face Kavi's right next to hers. A sudden flash of light illuminated the room for a split second before a crash resounded and shook the glass in the windows.

"Not for long," Brin quipped dryly. It was rare for her to be so open and forthcoming, but she would, she'd stay strong for as long as her baby brother needed her to be.

She'd already gotten into three fights with the others assigned to their team within the week, defending herself and her little brother from the antagonizing from the other Wyoming transgenics. A couple from the other facilities joined in, if only because they were mean, and Brin had showed them that while shy initially, when it came to her brother or Unit 2, you best not mess and proved why she was among the elite in the first place.

The handlers finally had to split her and Kavi from the rest of those from Wyoming, which was why they were in a room, mostly to themselves. Well, not entirely. The few transgenics who hadn't been involved in the fights were there with them, and while not even comparing to the rest of her family Brin had found some friends.

"Brin!" Kavi cried, jumping from his bunk to hers, moving with the inherent transgenic swiftness so that in a manner of seconds he was beneath the covers and huddling against her side.

"Make him shut up Brin," one of the others mumbled sleepily. This one had come from Seattle, and according to her, it rained and stormed so often there this was like home for her.

"Shut up," Brin muttered, trying to untangle herself from the mess Kavi had made of the sheets.

"Kavi, you're acting more like a baby than Max," she grumbled.

"But I am the baby! Max is older by _two_ years, so you need to quit treating her like one."

Kavi's tone was petulant, but sincere. Brin paused, thinking over what had been said, and finding she agreeing.

"You're right. She _is_ older."

"So you need to stop acting like she's the baby, because I am," Kavi grumbled, snuggling in the convenient crook of her arm.

"Yeah, I guess we do," Brin murmured quietly, snuggling into Kavi's warmth, appreciating that he had superheated the sheets quicker than had she been by herself.

"Night, big sissy," Kavi yawned, already half asleep.

"Night, baby brother," Brine answered, following him in slumber.

* * *

Two hours and a few cities away from Gillette, Wyoming

Ashton lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, listening with half an ear at the traffic passing on the street a few hundred meters from his room window. The streetlights illuminated part of the room, not that he needed the light in the first place, but it cast the room into weird, contorted shapes.

His mind was racing a mile a minute, not allowing him to follow his team mates-he couldn't bring himself to say unit mates, for they weren't- into sweet slumber for tomorrow.

For one thing, the breathing pattern of the sleepers was wrong with what he was used to hearing and be lulled to sleep with. He knew every phase, every quick or slow draw of breath, every beat of his family's heart, and these…foreigners only served in their slumber to accentuate the fact that he wasn't with his own.

Another thing was the damn traffic. All day and all night long, there seemed to be an endless stream of motorized vehicles passing through, honking their horns, screeching their tires, yelling out the windows. It gave him a headache and was fast on it's way to driving him crazy!

He eyed the snow that was starting to fall in steady gusts outside the window, sensing the advent of winter. The thought brought him sadness, for it was the most fun and the most grueling for him and his unit. Fun, because every activity, every hunt every escape and evade, seek and destroy took on a greater intensity between one wrong shift of weight and you give yourself away with a mark on the snow, and the bitter cold that encouraged one to hurry up what they were doing before they froze themselves. There were also the snowball fights and ambush attacks to send on of his siblings sailing into a nearby snow bank or trap to help alleviate the tension and monotony.

Grueling for exactly the same reasons. Also, the trainers seemed to think the colder and more snow on the ground, the best time it was for extended night exercises for their charges while they themselves wait around in a heated base camp tent with mugs of steaming hot coffee or tea or chocolate.

And he missed Vada. That alluring, complicated, enigma that was his unit mate, whose dark beauty could compel any man or transgenic into doing anything she wished, and usually got it. He even missed Taz, in their never-ending rivalry for Vada's affection, and was satisfied in the knowledge he knew Taz felt the same way. The threesome had been an 'item' ever since he could remember, and the rivalry was more a game and longstanding joke between them.

Taz and he had become brothers of a sort, bonded through similar situations and the affection for a certain X5. They knew of each other's heartache when Vada smiled at a boy from another unit, or talked to one of their sisters in describing which trainer or staff member she thought was cute. The two had become best friends and deeper than brothers, willing to share her with the other, but unwilling for any outsider. It was a complicated matter, made more so by Vada's indecision on which one she truly preferred: Ashton or Taz.

"Good-night, Taz, buddy of mine…and good-night, sweet Vada. I hope you're thinking of me."

With those whispered words, Ash turned on his side, grabbed his pillow, and tried to drown out the noise outside long enough to fall asleep.

* * *

Omaha, Nebraska

Vada sat curled up by the windowpane, seated on the soft cushions of the window seat in front of the large, bay area window. She was hugging her knees to herself, arms wrapped securely about her, trying to fight off a chill that had nothing to do with the glass or outside temperature.

Yeah, she was a big flirt; she wasn't going to deny it. She enjoyed the attention it brought male or otherwise, it was just her thing. But even that had grown old the past week, lots of changes, both in her and in those surrounding her.

And…Vada just plain missed her family. At first, the prospect of meeting new transgenics, flirting with boys she'd never met, seeing more than just the woods and barbed wire of Manticore had filled her with an excitement that almost matched the sadness at being split up. Being separated hadn't hit her as hard as it had some of the others, she knew, but it was hitting her now.

_Must be a delayed reaction,_ she laughed silently to herself as she absently wiped at the moisture streaming down her face.

Most people didn't think that Vada cared about anyone but Vada, and to a certain extent that was true. When her brother, her real brother Ferro, had been murdered by those thrice damned Fours, she had lost much of the motivation to care for others, so lost in her grief and not wanting to experience hurt again. But she did care, she did think, about others…they just happened to be her own little family that was all.

She was worried, even now, about little Syl being torn from Krit. She recalled with vivid clarity how pale and withdrawn the little elfin soldier had been when Krit's designation was called and he was the first to leave. Vada had thought that Syl would chase after Krit's bus, but she hadn't, whether by Zack or one of the others, she hadn't been able to see. All she knew was that she was praying to Ben's Blue Lady that she would remain still like a good soldier and not get sent to punishment by herself, where no one would be able to sneak and comfort her. But she was confident that being around Seth and Eva, the second and fifth oldest of them all, would help her through this painful period.

She wasn't too worried about Kavi, she knew that Brin was with him, and if there was anything that would make shy and quiet Brin turn into the effective and deadly soldier she was, it was Kavi's presence and the need to protect her own. Vada had seen some of the other soldiers assigned with them; many of the troublemakers had gone with them, and she didn't need to be Psy-Ops to know that there was going to be a clash.

Jack and Jace on the other hand…Vada laughed inwardly, a smile twisting her lips of their own accord. Manticore and Blue Lady above, she'd love to be a fly on the wall with those two! Vada could guess that right now, Jack was well on his way to acquiring a pretty and decidedly deadly accurate collection of bruises by now.

Zack was fine by himself; Vada gave a snort of disdain. Zack was _always_ fine, whether by himself or with others, it didn't make any difference. Zack was Zack no matter what life, Manticore, or anything else threw at him. He might feel a twinge, a _twinge_, of sadness, but he'd be too busy trying to achieve his 'objective' and just plain having confidence in his unit that he wouldn't worry too much, or too often. Her big brother was a pushover if you looked really deep, deep, deep, on the microscopic level deep within, but it was there nonetheless.

Tinga could take care of herself. She was tough, she was the survivor, she was…the mommy of the group and was bound to make friends and new family among her group. Vada had no worries whatsoever for her eldest sister, who was just half a day older than she.

Zane and Anika were together, which was just perfect for the twins. They always worked better when they were around each other, it was like there was some link, some power connector between them that just amped them up to a higher performance level just being in the same room. It didn't matter that Zane was into everything mechanical and combustible and that Anika could patch a scratch or a broken bone with such skill and finesse you hardly even knew you were in pain when she finished.

Thinking about the natural siblings opened a wound in her heart that had never healed, and it cleaved and clung to her soul like Syl on Krit. Ferro, her beloved brother, had been her closest companion while he was still alive. They were stuck on each other to the point of seeming to share the twin link of Zane and Anika.

Vada's tears started to fall faster and in greater quantity, though her breathing never changed or sped up, and she never made a sound. Every night she relived the horror of watching him die, imagining she could feel her own spine break in time with his, and for a moment, back then at that first fateful exercise, she had felt as if she were in his place, and she knew the instant he died and where the fatal snap occurred.

"Ferro," she mouthed in silence, bowing her head in acknowledgement of his and Kane, Shasta and Davida, and Kyle's sacrifice and loss.

She could almost hear Ben start on one of his stories, and Vada smiled at the thought of her hazel-eyed dreamer brother. Ben was one of the best; he could be vicious and unforgiving in the hunt, but ever so gentle and wise with his family. Vada could practically sense the potential in him, greater than the others, and knew that one day he might be enough to oust Zack from his lofty perch.

'_Doubtful,' _she smiled, but not as if she were amused. Zack may be a lot of things and not some of others, but there was one thing none of them doubted: Zack would kill and be killed to protect them. And that was why she knew that Ben would never take Zack's place, even if he was offered or ordered to.

Thoughts of Ben naturally brought her mind to Max, that fiery little bundle, the baby of the sisters, though Kavi was the true baby of the family. Vada's smile turned softer, gentler, an almost alien expression of tenderness when thinking of her baby sister.

Max…such a combination of vulnerability and strength, sass and satire, leadership and follower, impatience and a predatory stillness that matched her with Ben perfectly. She was often coddled, specifically by Zack and the older ones, she didn't know why, or really when it had begun. She guessed it was one of those things that they took for granted, and she mused then, if that was a good thing or not.

Like Ben, Vada could see that Max had the potential to become great, she had such a mix of confidence and a budding sensuality-not as marked as her own, more subtle- and wit and a certain child-like vulnerability that hearts would melt for her. She would follow, if given the proper leadership and incentive, but Vada was beginning to catch glimpses of the leader within. She wasn't showy or seeking the spotlight, hers was not a sought after leading but rather offered, if there was such a thing.

Even now, she chafed at some of Zack's or the Colonel's orders, but she was too good a soldier, she had too much respect for both her commanding officers to take issue with them. But one day, one day she would not quietly follow, and Zack, Vada had a feeling, would have something coming to him. It seemed big brother relied on Max for support, not unexpected if she were his twic, but Eva was twic, not Max.

And like Ben leading to Max, so did Max lead to Jondy, the second to being the baby. She and Syl were roughly the same age, give or take a week. She was the elder, and both were only four months younger than Krit, but she possessed all the qualities Max had and more. The two's personalities were so often intertwined, one would be calm and collected one week, while the other was aggressive and reckless, then the next week would come and the roles would be reversed. It was as if they interchanged thoughts and reactions as easily as borrowing clothes.

Jondy was tough, more visibly tough than Max, whom Vada suspected was the real source of strength, and outspoken. Boy, was she ever! Jondy landed in Solitary more times for 'disrespecting a superior officer' or keeping her mouth running when she should have shut it.

Whereas Max didn't seek the limelight, Jondy jumped headfirst. She would often take the rap for Max, whenever Max let her, and the pair was nearly inseparable. They were the same size though Jondy was leaner and more frail looking, same personalities, same nearly everything. They were like light and dark versions of each other.

Vada laughed quietly to herself, thinking of those pair. Speaking of pairs…there were two more of her family whom she'd avoided until now to think about. The two who, despite her every which way to get rid of them, stuck to her, and made her love them more each day. The two whom she missed the most of all.

Vada heard somewhere that it was possible to be in love with two different men at the same time. Well…she agreed. She loved Ashton and she loved Taz with all her heart, she couldn't imagine one without the other, or them without her for that matter. Thinking of them, imagining all the girls cooing and awing over them sent a white-hot flare of jealousy so intense through her she never felt the cold, and didn't hear herself growl in warning at those little hussies going for _her_ boys.

_Why do they say jealousy is green when it's white hot and burning like the hottest flames?_

Vada didn't know and she didn't care; she just knew she didn't like it, didn't like those thoughts, or thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of the boys might kiss another…not herself. Vada knew she had no right getting jealous, but that's how she felt. The reason she flirted with all the guys was to see if _her_ boys took notice, and it gave her a special thrill when they did.

"Taz…Ashton…I miss you so," she cried softly, leaning against the window, weeping silently to herself until at last she fell asleep, thinking of her boys.

* * *

West Point, Virginia

Zack quietly lay in his bunk, hearing the even sounds of breathing from his teammates, listening as a couple who had that infamous Shark D.N.A. twitched and groaned restlessly, but at sub human level so as to not disturb their handlers. They were under strict orders of silence, and Zack was surprised to find himself sad at the fact that the two sharks- both female - didn't disregard protocol and whisper like his little Max and Jondy did.

Zack frowned as he analyzed this particular piece of information, coming at it from all angles until he had formulated an assumption based on the concurrent data that matched. It still didn't make him any happier to know.

He missed his family. He missed his unit, even those annoying and trying fearsome foursome of which his brother was one. He missed falling asleep to the excited giggles and whispered confidences of the two precious troublemakers, their banter a soothing predictability. And occasionally, he'd hear the others up as well, most staying up only until the end of first watch, usually when Ben told a group story and not one of his and Max's private ones, and then settling in, but no, not those two. Those two stayed up all night with their chatter.

It amazed him how much the two females, or any pair or group of females for that matter, could just sit up for hours and talk and talk. He figured they must run out of things to say eventually, but no, it seemed each night there was something new or exciting to speculate upon. Zack was ashamed to admit it, but on occasion he'd stay awake pretending to sleep and just listen in on what the two were talking about.

All in the name of observing and trying to better understand the soldiers under his command, he told himself, but deep down, he knew it was just a cover-up. He listened in because he was curious, not about what they were discussing though that was there, but he wanted to know more about them, what they really felt, their thoughts, their dreams if they were allowed such.

Zack wondered how his unit and his girls were doing, wondering if they would be able to sleep or have trouble with their teams. He bit back a growl at anyone giving his girls, anyone giving _any_ of his unit, any trouble. Krit and Brin and Kavi's groups worried him, Krit's especially because some of the infamous Unit 15, those freaking wanna be rapists, were assigned. It wasn't that he didn't think Krit could handle himself; _all_ his unit could and for that he was unsoldierly proud.

Krit could be…well, let's just say Krit wasn't the best choice to sneak a night attack on, especially if he'd been asleep prior to the attack. Krit was a grouch and ill tempered when he awoke, and he worried Krit might do too much damage to quad from Unit 15.

Zack stilled further as he heard the unmistakable thump of combat boots on the tile in the corridor outside, unconsciously closing his eyes and slowing his breathing down to imperceptible levels until the night watch moved further on.

Syl was foremost on his mind, of them all; her attachment to Krit could pose more of a hindrance than a boon, having never been truly separated from Krit in years. It relieve him somewhat his brother and his twic was there for her, but still…he'd feel better once they were together again.

There was another rustle as one of the sharks, he named them Shar and Kay, moved around in agitation. Listening, he pinpointed it was Kay moving about so restlessly, the noise was coming from her direction, and he had to hold in a sigh.

He wanted his unit back. This unit was fine, but it wasn't his, and they weren't his soldiers, and these weren't his pair of sharks. With another sigh, Zack turned over to his stomach, his favorite sleeping position, and sought his rest. For now, all he could do for his family was wait.

* * *

Boulder, Colorado

Jondy couldn't sleep. Not that that was different from any other night in her short-lived life, but this past week, tonight especially was different. She gave an annoyed snarl and stomped quietly out of bed so as to not disturb the other occupants of her shared room, stomping toward the frost covered window.

It was flurrying outside, ringing in the advent of winter, and the prospect for snow, even though it was pretty early in the year. According to local gossip and the intel provided, being so close to the mountains and their precipitous weather caused for some interesting weather conditions.

Something about tonight tugged at her, and she shivered slightly, wrapping arms around herself to conserve body heat. Of their own violation, her head and body turned in a north, north westerly direction, knowing that that was where the source of her irritation.

It took a moment for her to get the connection, but once it did, her heart both soared and plummeted.

_Max!_

"I'm here, we're here, we are together though the miles may seem great," she barely whispered, mouthing the words, eyes closing and concentrating on one word, one being: Max.

_Duty-mission-honor-success-failure-I'm-not-a-failure-I-didn't-fail-family-love-siblings alone-oh-so-alone-alloooone_… 

Jondy gasped as the wave of loneliness and hurt and frustration and need hit her like being close-lined by Seth. Hard.

_Never alone, never a failure, you didn't fail, I'm here, I'm here, **and I'm here!**_

"Max, Max, Max, listen, listen…listen, I'm here, we're here, it's all right, together, not alone," Jondy chanted a soft mantra, instilling all the calm and love and acceptance she could into that one specific heartbeat echoing in her mind.

Jondy found herself a pillow and a blanket in the rocking chair seated in one large corner of the room filled with chests and wardrobes surrounding it, and she settled herself in, concentrating on the sister who needed reassurance, eventually dozing off, still hearing the double beat of their hearts.

* * *

In Seattle, Max twitched in her sleep, her tight fetal position slowly uncurling, as the need to protect herself no longer existed. She still moved back to her position, but it was not as tight or desperate as before.

* * *

Mt. Washington, Kentucky

Ben paced back and forth in the room he was assigned. The housing facilities issued had too many transgenics and their handlers assigned for the former farmhouse to hold, and so Ben was bunked in what used to be one of three attics the house boasted. This one was the farthest away from the others, so there was no fear of him waking any of the adults or animals up at least, so Ben felt free to pace. His roommate didn't mind, he had shark D.N.A. and seemed more interested in his headphones, music collection, and surfing the Web than his irritated roomie.

Something wasn't quite…right. It had to be one of his unit, but before he could ponder which one, his roomie interrupted him.

"Did you know that the ancient Greeks believed in the beginning there was no male and female?" he just burst out.

"What?" Ben jerked himself out of his thoughts to listen to his up-till-now-silent roommate. Taking that as interest, the curly haired transgenic started to ramble on excitedly, not noticing his roomie's distracted look as he pulled himself together.

"Yeah, they believed that each soul is one part of a perfect whole, one male and one female. They also believed that when you found the person with the other half of your soul, you'd be complete."

"You'd find your soul-mate," Ben surmised, nodding. Curly Top wasn't exactly the best storyteller-it wasn't just bias on his part- but the information he provided, it kind of made sense in a weird sort of way, and it _was_ interesting.

"Yeah, but I was reading Laurell K. Hamilton's eighth book in her Anita Blake Vampire Slayer series, _Obsidian Butterfly_, and this assassin guy, Edward, was talking about the exact same thing. He said something on the subject that I have to concur with, and it was really fascinating…"

"I'm sure it was…and it was?" Ben trailed off, hoping to get more information out of him.

"Oh, Edward, the assassin guy –he's really cool by the way- anyway, Edward says to Olaf, this other assassin dude, only this guys' a rapist and a murderer, but anyway…"

"_Eight Zero Eight_," Ben growled, hazel-eyes snapping, and Curly quickly heeded the warning.

"I'll give you the full quote, on page 158! _'The Greeks believed that once, there were no male and female, that all souls were one. Then the souls were torn apart, male and female. The Greeks thought that when you found the other half of your soul, your soul mate, that it would be your perfect lover. But I think if you find the other half, you would be too much alike to be lovers, but you would still be soul mates'_."

Ben raised both brows, intrigued despite himself and the pressing need to find out what was wrong with one of his family.

"Really? That's…fascinating. Did he say anything else, this…assassin Edward in those adult books you're not supposed to be reading yet?" Ben smirked at him, but his smile was open and friendly, one old pal to another, talking books.

Curly sighed in disappointment.

"No, not in this book. But I'm Googling some more on it now, I'll let you know when I find more!" he brightened up considerably.

"Great, you do that," Ben gave him a friendly clap on the back and a smile he hoped Curly would take as warm and then left to resume his pacing, though the pace –no pun intended- was more thoughtful and less panicked.

_Soul mates. Not exactly lovers but entwined just the same. Just like Max and I,_ Ben suddenly realized, grinning. Unbidden, words sprang forth from his mind with sudden inspiration.

_I see myself through the looking glass_

_And staring back at me, I see_

_The missing part of me._

_You're the piece of my soul_

_The echo of my heart_

_We have never truly been apart_

_Two distinctly different faces_

_I am you and you are me_

_Together the two become we._

_I see myself through the looking glass_

_And staring back at me, I see_

_You are me._

* * *

Seattle, Washington State.

Deep in my self-imposed slumber, I lay there; twitching occasionally as I felt invisible hands and faces curl up beside me. Instinctively I shifted to fit into familiar phantoms, nose breathing deep and seeking a special curve of the neck to rest my face.

All the loneliness and weariness of the past twenty-four hours seemed to release, and for the first time in a week, I felt myself relax in the sweet scent of home.

Drifting, on the edge of dreams and nothingness, my lips opened and closed, forming words.

"…staring back at me, I see/ You are me."


	15. THIS MEANS WAR

A/n: I'm going to focus a little more on the others in Max's unit for a while, but more Max and Alec and Seattle goodness to come! The usual, I don't own anything but the originals.

**THIS MEANS WAR**

The shrill clarion of the bell rang, signaling an end to the class. Sudden noise and motion occurred where only seconds ago silence and the soft sound of thirty-two students working on their assignment quietly had reigned. Books slammed shut, chairs were scooted back, and students found the ability to speak.

Tinga was silent as she gathered her notebook and textbook, in no rush as she slipped her pencil into the zip-up nylon pencil holder, leisurely standing up and waiting as the initial tide of her classmates momentarily clogged the hatch.

_Door,_ she sternly amended herself. It was so easy to forget civilian terms, having never been on any missions that were not militaristic in nature and execution.

"You're Sherri, right?"

"Excuse me?" she asked. Tinga almost hadn't responded, momentarily forgetting where she was, and her alias.

"Sherri, your name, right?"

The speaker was a decent enough looking boy about her age of eleven, with a fair complexion, but his hair was dark and wavy enough that he had to have more than one ethnicity. Tinga supposed he was cute; she'd been around cute boys all her life, what was one more?

"Right," she agreed, nodding, then headed off for her locker, socializing mission accomplished.

"Hey, wait up! I'll walk you to your locker or your next class or…wherever." The boy tagged along at her side, which was something considering how crammed the Manhattan school was.

"Why?" Tinga gave him a puzzled look, feeling a frown form on her face, furrowing her brow.

"Why, what? I'm Kevin by the way," he flashed a grin at her, and Tinga merely raised her brows, deftly avoiding collision with others without conscious thought.

"Why are you…walking, with me?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's a free country, I can walk wherever I want, when I want, with whoever I want and no one can tell me otherwise," he shrugged and Tinga gave a snort.

'_He wouldn't last a day with that attitude,'_ she chuckled inwardly to herself, amused.

"Uh-huh."

"So…where you headed?" They were separated by a spill of students, and Kevin found himself straining to see her over their heads.

"Class."

She gave a half-hearted raise of her hand and ducked into the classroom conveniently on her side of the hallway. She didn't look back and Kevin was struck dumbfounded.

He stood in the middle of the hall for a few moments, looking at the open doorway she had disappeared to until someone shoved him and rudely told him to get out of the way.

When Kevin moved on to get to his own class, Tinga popped out of the doorway, looking out to make sure Kevin wasn't around, and then walked out in the opposite direction to a class about three doors down and on the other side of the hall, seeing someone was waiting for her and making it in class just before the tardy bell rang.

She and Taz slipped into their seats, deftly avoiding the obstacles of backpacks and purses and school gear strewn about haphazardly. The teacher was in the back having a conversation with one of the other staff, so the students were quietly talking amongst themselves.

"That was a nice executed escape and evade," Taz spoke softly for our ears only. We were seated together in the back, something that we hadn't even thought about, really.

"Thank you. He was very…aggressive in his approach, and unexpected."

"Want me to 'talk' to him?" Taz growled. He had perked up and become more alert and Tinga spoke hastily.

"No, no that's okay…maybe aggressive was a bad word choice. He was…obvious and blunt. Persistent. Besides," she suddenly grinned. "I think he'll get the memo shortly."

Taz still looked doubtful, but he wasn't going to push it. She was a few hours older than he was and she never let him forget it, and wouldn't take kindly to his interference. That was okay…what she didn't know she couldn't get mad at him for. It was only a little recon.

That settled in his mind, he leaned back in his desk and paid attention, class was about to begin.

* * *

_That was _way_ too easy, both Kevin and Taz,_ Tinga frowned slightly, eyeing her busily writing brother suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, lips barely moving, eyes never leaving the paper in front of him or breaking his train of thought.

"Nothing. Just…analyzing."

"Does analyzing mean you have to look at me?"

"I wasn't looking at you for real," she tried not to huff, but feeling just a tad irritated with her brother. _He's planning something I can smell it._

_She's onto me,_ he thought grimly, but it didn't change his decision. He had a job to protect his family, moreso than any prolonged exercise, and if Zack couldn't be here, than he'd take up the slack. He knew that Tinga would do the same for him.

They were both silent as they finished the writing assignment, having known and studied the grammatical rules they had just been assigned for a while now. Boredom was a tough factor to beat, but Taz was confident he'd make it through without too much trouble. It was tedious to have to pretend to still be writing or composing their thoughts while the rest of the class was not even halfway finished.

"Eye's Front," he muttered to himself, tapping idly on his desk with his pencil. He didn't even know what he was doing until Tinga hissed at him.

"You're tapping Morse Code," she growled at him under her breath.

"What?"

"You're going through all the phonetic letters in the Morse Code sequencing, _Max_," she hissed, rolling her eyes, and casting a look around to see if they'd been noticed.

Taz snorted at being called Max; it was well known that Max, as the telecommunications and linguistics expert of the bunch, would often tap out Morse code, or sign language, or even binary code when she was upset or thinking heavily.

Tinga stifled a chuckled but Taz heard it anyway and he sent her a death-glare she pointedly ignored and wasn't afraid of.

"Sure thing…_Jace_," he snarled back quietly, taking glee at seeing her posture stiffen. Being called Jace was tantamount to being called a stickler and a spoilsport, a playful insult.

"What a surprising Jack response," she responded with a mocking eyebrow.

"Oh…. this means war."

"Bring it."

"Count on it."

"I will."

"Okay, then."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Alright."

"Is the class really that boring or would you two lovebirds want to be left alone? I'm sure we could give you some privacy by sending you to ISAP."

Tinga and Taz looked up at the teacher in some surprise as the other students laughed. Mr. Bowden didn't look thrilled with his class disrupted.

"Actually…" Taz opened his mouth to begin but Tinga slapped her hand hard across his mouth.

"Actually, we apologize for letting our personal quarrels hinder the fascinating academics so skillfully taught by yourself. Please, excuse us," Tinga smiled sweetly, simpering, trying to keep Taz from talking his way into trouble.

"You're fortunate it's the second day of school and I'm in a forgiving mood. Don't let it happen again," Bowden nodded, a slight grin on his face, appeased. Not that he really minded, he wasn't that many years out of school himself, so he was a little more 'cool' and 'laidback' than his contemporaries.

"Yes, sir," she gave him a soft smile, hand still covering Taz's mouth. She could practically feel the heat of his glare and on his body as he simmered, but she also sensed his mirth.

She released her hold over her brother, receiving and returning a glare, and turned back to her work.

"Vada."

"Seth."

"Eva."

"Thank you."

With a smirk, Tinga ignored and was ignored by her brother, right until the end of class. She didn't groan when Mr. Bowden assigned them homework like many of the other kids did. Complaints of 'it's too early!' and 'on the second day of school?' perplexed her. Why were they complaining about work to do when that was what they were in this facility to learn and accomplish?

"Ordinaries are weird."

"Not as weird as a girl with a name like Tinga," Taz grinned at her from the cover of the dismissal bell.

"This spoken by someone named after a fuzzy rodent and stupidly incoherent cartoon character," Tinga shook her head, heading out the door.

"The Tasmanian devil is not a rat! And Taz isn't stupid or incoherent, he's just…misunderstood."

"Huh," Tinga merely grunted.

"It's true!" Taz shouted down the hall after her, and he turned toward the opposite way, to the sound of Tinga's laughter.


	16. I LOVE YOU, YOU HATE ME, WE’RE A HAPPY F

A/n: Short chapter y'all, but I hope you enjoy. The usual disclaimer applies, I don't own Dark Angel or anything affiliated with them or Fox.

**I LOVE YOU, YOU HATE ME, WE'RE A HAPPY FAMILY **

"I really hate you."

"The feeling is quite mutual, I can assure you, though on my good days, I actually _like_ you, for some odd reason I can't understand. Hmm…must be some anomaly in my genetic makeup."

"Shut up, Jack!"

It shouldn't have happened, but it did anyway, and it wasn't even funny to begin with, but a sudden visual was too much to pass up. Jace couldn't help the snorting laughter that bubbled forth from some hidden reservoir buried miles beneath her surface. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but to her horror and dismay, another of those giggling snorts came out in rapid succession.

Jack just looked over at her in some awe and no great surprise. One, he couldn't truly remember the last time he'd heard Jace laugh so freely, and so unexpectedly. Two, he didn't know she could snort. Once he got over his surprise, he found he kind of liked it, and he wanted to hear it again. He narrowed his eyes in thought, pursing his lips.

"I know you're not laughing at me because of our…mutual feelings?"

"Hell no," was the quick and immediate response, along with another snort, but this one was in disdain and not the reaction he was hoping for.

"Oh, then you're laughing because of my anomaly?"

"You have an anomaly?" and Jace started to snort-laugh again. "This is not acceptable!"

"I know…you making a joke, who would have thought?"

"Jack!" Jace came the closest she ever did to wailing and having a Vada-esque hissy fit, complete with almost stamping her foot.

"You don't think?" Jack asked with too innocent eyes and Jace started laughing, this time full-blown laughter and not the snorting kind. Jack was fascinated, deciding he liked this version of laughter even better than the other.

"Can't you ever be serious?" she finally could get out.

"I try not to," he admitted, some of the humor leaving him.

The pair was eating lunch, sitting together under a tree to ward off the hot Georgian sun. The day was partly overcast but not even well into the afternoon and it was hot and muggy and sticky as if the air were a tangible thing. There wasn't any wind that the two could make out, so it just made the heat and humidity seem that much more oppressive.

Jace and Jack had been left alone, partly because their class was filled with a bunch of snobs, and the majority in that they had the tendency to argue quite spectacularly and no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Their transgenic brethren had given them a wide berth, but everyone was close enough that they wouldn't miss much of the drama, hoping for a good fight.

And they could and would give it to them, given the proper circumstance. Jace had grown up some in the past couple years, her gangly form slowly starting to show the innate slender and litheness, her soft shorn hair having grown out, the color of dark chocolate. She was catching up to Vada, Eva, and Tinga in the budding department, though it was obvious she wouldn't ever be all that greatly endowed. She and Tinga were the tallest of the girls, already able to meet Zack and Seth and Zane in the eye, something she hadn't been able to do for some time.

Jack was the slightest bit shorter, but no one noticed that, as his or her attention were brought to his build. While he'd never become the powerhouse combat models Zack and Seth were, or the lanky, thin slenderness of Zane, he was kinda stuck in the middle like Ben. At first glance, one would think he wasn't all that powerful, and underestimate his strength but Jack was quick and packed enough power in his punch that others would think twice.

He was not really that much to look at right now, the picture of your average American eleven-year-old boy, going to school. He didn't have any arresting, striking features like unusually colored eyes or exotic skin tone. He had normal looking pale skin of Anglo-Saxon heritage, and pretty common bluish-gray eyes.

What he lacked in obvious attraction was made up for in his personality. While normally pretty easygoing and a prime suspect for class or unit clown, he was very smart and extremely determined. Once he went after something, he didn't give up until he reached his objective, or learned what errors he made and went back and corrected his mistakes.

"Really?" Jace was surprised. She looked over at her sibling more closely, really looking at him, as if for the first time.

Jack merely looked up and met her gaze, nodding once, looking away while softly answering, "Really. You're just too stuck on pleasing Zack and doing everything so perfect, so by-the-book, so exact…you don't see me."

Jack's voice held a sorrow that Jace had never heard before, and she was cut to the quick, even as her face flamed at the mention of her desire to please Zack. So maybe she was by the book, and precise, and very efficient at what she did. Isn't that what they were supposed to be?

_So why do I feel so rotten about Jack's feelings?_ Jace contemplated, frowning.

Troubled, there was a few moments silence as Jace sat there, openly studying her companion. After a few minutes of this, Jack started to smile, and he turned amused eyes to his unit mate.

"My face is the same as it was this morning, last I checked, unless you're scathing words opened some wounds I was not aware of?" he mocked, placing one hand on his cheek in a feather light touch, the other placed over his heart theatrically. His eyes were comically wide and effectively conveyed shock and horror.

Jace found it funny. She started to laugh again and on a sudden impulse, she leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek that was exposed.

"You're kinda cute when you do that," she admitted, feeling an unusual bashfulness come over. Ducking her head with an embarrassed smile, she left in a sudden bout of shyness, leaving a shocked Jack behind.

"Wow," was all he managed to think of or to put into words. But when the bell rang and all the kids started to head back inside, there was a pleased and tender smile adorning his lips.


	17. DON'T MESS WITH ME AND MINE

A/n: Another chapter, sheesh I'm on a role! The usual disclaimer applies, I don't own Dark Angel or make a profit off my work, and it's purely recreational. The quotes in this chapter were taken from the quotes page from the Nuns with Pens website, an awesome site that I have wanted to join and can't figure out why my computer won't let me. Grrr…so anyway, thanks to all those lovely Nuns and their fave quotes. Oh, and no offense to people named Erma.

**DON'T MESS WITH ME AND MINE**

"Does it ever do anything but storm or blow wind all day here?" Kavi grumbled, staring morosely out the window. Chicago was lit up in a display of one of nature's most powerful forces, and the wind battered sheets of rain against the glass.

He didn't usually mind storms, but there wasn't Ben to distract him with some silly story to make it seem less scary, or Max and Jondy to playact their interpretations and mimicking the staff and trainers, or Jack to pull a funny prank.

He missed the others of his family so much, and he was so thankful Brin was there, but there was only so much she could do. Besides, he felt really bad that she'd gotten into so much trouble, and a lot of it had to do with him. She was only protecting him, but Kavi knew that she might have been making friends sooner without him along to hinder her.

He caught sight of one of the transgenics in his class, and the little red head girl quickly averted her eyes and pointedly ignored him. An almost physical pain lanced through him and he gave a sigh that had its origins deep in the core of his being and he let it out. Seems like he couldn't even make friends among his peers, transgenic or human alike. Kavi was in a corner table almost by himself. Almost, because there was three other children seated there, but they weren't paying attention to him, lost in their own little world.

_I guess this is how the other Wyoming units feel about us. Alone, and wishing they were apart of the group,_ he thought wistfully, surprisingly insightful for his tender age of six.

"Now that was a mighty big sigh, Mickey," a kindly sounding voice made him lookup in some surprise.

So involved in his depression he hadn't heard the teacher come near. She was a matronly woman, standing about five six or so, almost as big around as she was tall, all curves and bulges and she had a strange waddling walk. But just as big as her outside was her inside, and Kavi immediately sensed this was someone whom he could trust.

Her eyes shown with compassion and the patience to find out what was wrong, something that Kavi had never known from any other authority figure in his entire life. Her hair was short and thin and a sort of reddish brown color, not cut in any particular style just resting limply on her head. Her face sort of oval shaped, the larger portion of the oval being her cheeks and jowls.

"Yes, ma'am," he automatically responded, catching himself before he winced, inwardly chastising himself for his lapse into military procedure.

"Such a proper little gentleman," Mrs. Kennedy smiled, and Kavi couldn't help but respond with one of his own, albeit a shy one accompanied by a blush.

"No, ma'am."

"No, you're not a little gentleman, or no because it wasn't a big sigh?"

Kavi could only stare at his teacher in wide-eyed amazement. The woman gave a chuckle that rolled through her layers of padding.

"Come walk with me to the front so we can talk. Come on," she coaxed, and Kavi reluctantly left his seat, not looking at his table mates, allowing himself to be gently prodded over to the front of the classroom.

The front held an old chalkboard, dusty and scarred from years of use, and a newer dry-erase board caddy-corner to it. Mrs. Kennedy's desk was in one corner where the two met, but in the opposite corner was a section of the room separated from the rest of class by a pair of long bookshelves that came to Kavi's shoulders if he stood next to them. The little square area held a handmade rag rug and two very comfortable looking padded seats, one large enough for Mrs. Kennedy, the other just the right size for six year old children.

There was a poster on the section of the chalkboard in the Quiet Corner, it had text on it and Kavi tilted his head to read it in an effort to look everywhere but at his teacher. The poster was a light blue with some sort of funky font in varying shades of bright, cheery colors. It had what appeared to be several quotes on it, and Kavi read on.

"Do you know what that says, Mickey? Here, I'll read some of them to you, my favorites. _'Be yourself, everyone else is taken._' "

Kavi snorted a laugh before he could contain himself, and quieted down. Mrs. Kennedy smiled softly, relaxing in her seat, and continued.

"Don't take life too seriously, after all no one's even gotten out of it alive."

"That one's really funny," Kavi started snickering.

"But it's very true. So, why don't you tell me what's bothering you, sweetie?"

"Well," Kavi hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts. A lot of what was troubling with him didn't fit in with his cover so he had to think fast.

"Go on," Mrs. Kennedy encouraged, adjusting the glasses on her face.

"I'm a foster child, and I live with some of the other foster children in this big old house. But everyone's different from my real family, and one of my sisters is there with me, but she's been getting in trouble because other kids pick on me and her, but mostly me, and she gets into fights. I look out, and see one of my foster sisters, and she just ignores me, and the kids at my table don't talk to me and I, and I just want the rest of my family, for all of us to be together again, and I know we won't, not for a long time at least."

Kavi was horrified to feel hot tears flowing down his face, and he hung his head in shame. What would the Colonel think if he could see him now? He'd say he was a baby, and not fit to be a soldier, not fit to be in the elite Unit 2. That thought frightened him more than the Colonel's displeasure.

"Ah, Mickey, there, there. Here, dry your tears and listen to me," Mrs. Kennedy smiled as she handed the adorable little boy in front of her some of the Kleenex from the nearby dispenser.

Kavi sniffed, taking the proffered Kleenex, wiped his nose, but still wouldn't raise his eyes to meet the teachers. He could deliver a status report to the Colonel or any of his trainers in a crisp, efficient manner, eyes focused on a spot exactly twelve inches above said trainers head, and not falter once. But facing this extraordinary woman before him and he couldn't even look her in the face.

"Mickey," she called softly, using her extended hand to grasp his chin lightly with her finger and tilt upwards. The eyes slowly followed, and she continued only when he finally met her gaze, couldn't help but smile at the little lost boy look in his eyes.

"Listen to me, son. There's nothing wrong with being different. We all were created that way, and no one is like our family, or could even begin to come close. I'm glad you have at least one of your sisters with you, that makes life a whole lot easier doesn't it? Yes, it does. I'm sorry you're having so much trouble fitting in with the rest of the group, your foster siblings included."

"She looked right at me and looked away real fast," Kavi sniffled.

"Maybe she's shy."

"What!"

Mrs. Kennedy couldn't stop the laughter that burbled upwards at that statement. The look on his face and the shocked vehemence of his outburst were just too cute. The little boy was about six or seven years old, still retaining that baby round chubbiness that doesn't leave until adolescence, though he looked remarkably fit even for a healthy boy his age.

His hair was short but fuzzy, as if he'd had it shorter before and was only now letting it grow out. It was a dirty blond, a light brunette color, and it stuck up in little haphazard spikes from running his fingers through his hair. A nervous gesture she supposed.

His eyes were a clear, electric blue, light on the inside but gradually darkening toward the edges, reminding her of a color chart she had seen in art classes where a color goes from the absolute lightest to the extreme dark of it's spectrum.

Freckles, almost too light and too small shaped to see, splashed across his nose and cheeks, adding to the cuteness. He was pale but there was a hint of color in the skin, as if he'd be darker if given the proper amount of exposure. There was a glow about him that Mrs. Kennedy had always attributed to a very active, very healthy lifestyle, and she was sad now that such a vibrant young boy could be so down and mopey.

"I said, maybe she might be shy. She's probably as curious about you as you are about her, and doesn't know how to approach you. She might also be scared."

"Scared, what for?" Kavi was indignant now, moreso at the possibilities he hadn't considered than anything else.

"Well…you did say your sister got into fights. Perhaps she's scared your sister might beat her up if she says the wrong thing to you?"

Kavi frowned and Mrs. Kennedy let him think, years of experience and wisdom allowing her to settle back, and let him come to his own conclusions. His little nose and brow scrunched up when he was thinking, and his little scowl was endearing.

"That's kind of silly," he said after a moment's thought.

"It is," Mrs. Kennedy agreed sagely, nodding slowly and emphatically. "But people are often silly, sometimes for no reason that anyone but that person can understand or even begin to imagine. How we perceive things is very different from how others perceive them. Like it reads on the poster over there, _'People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.'_ So why don't you make a bridge, and talk to her? And don't get upset or give up if she's doesn't respond in the way you hoped for; just give her a little time and space."

"All right," Kavi nodded; surprised, he found he felt a whole lot better. "Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy, ma'am!"

"Oh, you're quite welcome young man!" Mrs. Kennedy laughed, a sound that was music to the young transgenics' ears. "Just remember this for next time you're feeling down. Know that there are two kinds of days before you: one day good and the other day bad. Know also this that both shall pass."

Kavi tilted his head to the side, taking in these wise words of wisdom from a woman he was starting to really respect and warm up to. Slowly, like the sun peeking out from a gray wrung washed cloud, a smile worked its way across his face, leaving a trail as brilliant as a comet's tail against the velvet darkness of space.

"Thank you!" he called again, getting up from his cushiony chair, and darting out the partition to rejoin his group, determined he wasn't going to let anyone get him down anymore and to stop feeling sorry for himself.

"When it is dark enough, one day you may yet see the stars," Mrs. Kennedy repeated softly to herself, watching 'Mickey' initiate conversation with those kids at his table, and finding that they were actually a friendly group who hadn't known how to approach him.

Mrs. Kennedy smiled with fondness at her little charges, giving a contented sigh. She keenly and delightfully felt the joy and burden of having the opportunity to help shape these young people.

* * *

Brin was not having a good day, no, not a good day at all. The Transgenics from Hell had been hassling her all day, slamming her locker shut, kicking her books and folders, moving her desk and seat away from her, stealing pencil and supplies…Brin was at war, and she was outnumbered 4-to-1, her allies separated into different classes and locker assignments.

"Remember: Strength is born in the deep silence of long suffering hearts; not amid joy," she repeated under her breath, trying to keep from yelling or going all out on her tormentors.

She didn't know where she'd picked up that quote, but Brin was claiming it for her own, keeping that mantra in the slim hope she'd keep her cool.

"Seven three four sucks!" one of her Hellish companions shouted out in class. Some of the class laughed, if only because they laughed at off-the-wall, shouted out cries. Brin knew who it was directed to though, eyes dilating and going back to normal, and she indulged herself in a brief fantasy of tearing the guys so-called man parts off his body.

"Numbers don't suck, life does, but it sure beats the alternative!" she snapped off a reply, having timed it just right. Fortunately for her, more people seemed to agree with her quote, and there was a few moments worth of smile and laughter as people found her funny.

Brin made a great show of slowly turning around in her chair and giving a great, big smile to her not-so-happy-looking-now antagonists. She managed to give them a knowing smirk before the teacher called the class to order and she went on without any more interruptions…for now.

But Brin wasn't worried now. She knew it was coming, and that it was going to be bad, but unless they hurt Kavi she wouldn't say or do anything. Them attacking her was one thing; she didn't give a flying fart in space about what they thought or did to her. But she would not put up with them doing pulling anything on Kavi.

_And that's what worries me,_ Brin admitted inwardly, gathering her books, folders, and supplies. _Kavi is a way to get to me, and you can bet they are going to find some way to exploit that.

* * *

_

Brin was ready, as soon as the bell rung she was off and out the door before the usual congestion at the doorway. She was pleased to note that the Hell's Angels were stuck in traffic and she allowed herself a small laugh of triumph.

On the alert for one of their cronies, Brin was in and out of her locker in record speed, and on her way to her next class before any one could catch up to her.

Brin slowed up as she approached the cafeteria, looking every which way, slinging her pack over her back and taking position in the lunch line. She was constantly on the alert, feeling relieved as the Allied Forces came in, smiling and waving. Brin waved back, a smile of her own gracing her Oriental features.

Her soft brown, almond shaped eyes twinkled with mirth, and her smile seemed to stretch to reach toward those eyes. Her skin held a slight golden tint and she was pretty average height for her age and gender. Her natural hair, no wig needed, was short but fashionable, gelled into little spikes and she was hoping maybe later on she could add some color. Like blue, purple and bright pink streaks. She was still rail thin, no breasts, no butt, absolutely none of the curves of her sisters were developing having transferred over, not that she wanted them so bad anyway.

She saw in Physical Education how the boys liked to stare and point and single out those girls who were more maturely developed, heard their whispers, speculations, fantasies, and nasty jokes and wanted no part in that cycle. She supposed it would happen inevitably, though she desperately hoped to the Blue Lady that her creators had seen fit to make her only slightly endowed, widen her hips, and perhaps, just maybe give her a little curve to her derriere. That's all she wanted out of curves.

Besides…she didn't want to think of any of her brothers thinking or acting that way when they were brought together again. Just the mere possibility sobered her up, and she felt a keen sense of loss, and sadness. She appreciated her brothers, took comfort in the quality time they spent, some of the best in the showers. Sometimes that was the only time they all let loose, a bonding time unlike any other, and that was the loss that would cut the most.

"Why so down, girl?" X5-357 asked as soon as they met up in line where Brin had saved their places. "Hell's Dozen giving you grief again?"

Brin had dubbed the sassy brunette from New York her Angel, and the name had stuck, though her alias was Elyna. They joked and called her Angelyna.

"What else is new? But no, that's not why I'm sad." Brin turned and faced the front of the line, which hadn't moved from all the kids trying to cut, and casually stuck her hand out so the boy trying to get around her met her solid arm to the chest. His glare was no match for the frosty looks directed his way and he tucked the proverbial tail between his legs and moved further back.

"Spill, girlfriend," X5-253 mock-ordered, her soft voice flavored by the twang in her voice cultivated from a lifetime down South in Georgia. She had decided to name herself Reba, despite her alias of being an Erma. Now, who the hell named their kid Erma in this day and age, though Max and Erma's restaurant was really, really good food.

"Well…I guess I just don't want to have to grow up."

"That all?" Angel laughed, and even Brin had to grin. She started moving, as there was a slight shift of movement up front, taking a whopping two-step forward.

"Of course not!" Brin laughed at herself. "Its just…changes. I don't want some of them, to lose what I have now that's good."

Both girls fell silent as they realized there was more to be discussed, but right now wasn't the place to air Manticore laundry.

"Yeah, some changes good, some bad, all work out in the end. Like us? Do you think we wanted to be here, when we could be where we used to be? Nuh and uh!" Angel gave a shake of her tightly curled head emphatically.

"Uh-huh. I know I definitely didn't want to be stuck with them," Brin jerked her chin toward the back of the line, and her pals turned to see the Hell Squad arrive, dirty looks and baggage in all.

"Your unit should have whooped them harder," Reba muttered for transgenic hearing only and I laughed, shaking my head.

"We did, they're just too spiteful to let it go. They're still sore, if you get my drift," Brin winked as she whispered back. The other two managed to stifle their laughter, casting amused glances back at the glaring enemies.

The few transgenics who came from the Wyoming facility with her and Kavi had been involved in the Massacre, and only a bare handful had been healed enough-meaning no visible sign of injury-to go on assignment just now. Brin could see how they didn't like her or her unit.

"I guess they're mad because it wasn't a fair fight," Reba commented, still giggling.

"Yeah, eighteen to eighty," Angel rolled her eyes in disgust. She couldn't believe that Brin's facility Director allowed her unit to face off against such odds. But she was also glad that Brin and her Unit 2, her _family_, got the last word.

"Like I done said, it wasn't a fair fight," Reba's eyes twinkled merrily and the three cracked up.

"Hey, look, we actually almost made it to the door!" Brin laughed.

So maybe today wasn't such a bad day after all, she grinned to herself, enjoying the company of her friends.


	18. LITTLE KRITTER

**LITTLE KRIT-TER**

"The itsy bitsy, kiddy, went down the hallway floor!"

Krit felt heard the singing and smelled the garlic chicken breath from the days lunch before the guy came up to try and push him down the hallway, which just happened to incline toward a curve.

"Down went the fat boy, who managed to beat himself up!" Krit sing-songed, as he merely stepped away and 'forgot' to remove his leg in time, allowing the boys own momentum to trip and make him take a dive.

Krit allowed himself a momentary smile of satisfaction. The 'fat kid' was actually a chubby fifth grader who looked as if he ate too many Ding-Dongs and was now reverting to take their shape. This kid had taken to tormenting all the 'little people' and Krit had been his target as the smallest fourth grader in the school.

"Hey, you tripped me!" the boy cried, his eyes welling with tears, a few scrapes on his face and arms bleeding a little. His plump face was turning a motley red with the rise of his temper, pain, and embarrassment.

"No, I merely stepped aside to let you through," Krit shrugged as he continued on down the hall, passing the fuming bully.

"Don't walk away from me shrimp!" he screeched and heaved himself up with great effort in pursuit. "Hey! I'm not through with you!"

"Newsflash! I'm through with you," Krit whirled around and met the boy face-to-face, his eyes and face holding deadly warning.

Now, Alaric Ames wasn't that bright of a kid. Sure, he made decent grades, enough to pass, but he was your average elementary boy, more interested in farts, and jokes, and shoving people around than any great goal in life. But something inside him, some forgotten primal half abruptly screamed '_red alert_!' as it picked up the non-verbal warning and held the boy in check.

"S-su-sure," Alaric muttered, scared of this little shrimp of a boy in front of him.

"We're not going to have this conversation ever again…_right_?"

_Did he just growl? _Alaric thought in panic, but he found himself nodding confirmation.

"R-ri-right, man. Hey, I was just messing with you."

"I'm giving you fair warning, since this is only the what…second week of school? Don't mess with me, _capishe_?"

"Yeah, yeah, man."

"Good," Krit held the boy's eyes for a few seconds longer, and then he turned around and left. Alaric Ames was left shaking and not even knowing that he had just peed his pants.

* * *

"Wow, Krit, you really put that ordinary in his place!" Conner, aka X5-303, exclaimed as the pair walked 'home' from school just two blocks away.

Krit gave a fond smile over at his companion, the smile tinged with bittersweet memories. Conner had been as big a surprise to him as he was to Conner. Apparently, one of Conner's unit mates in New York was X5-472, Krit's twin.

Funny thing is, Conner was the 'twin' of his brother Briac, one of the Lost Ones. So the two had developed a fast friendship, based upon shared brothers, started that night Conner or Con as he wanted to be known as, had watched Krit beat up the four idiots from Wyoming's Unit 15.

Briac had failed in the Tank, but it had been discovered later, that Briac had developed a blood clot in his lungs that had burst with the increased pressure from the Tank and holding his breath, causing him to deflate his lungs. Acting on instinct, he had tried to take another breath and inhaled a lungful of water instead.

That wasn't one of Krit's favorite memories, he had been right by Briac in the Tank, and he remembered the cloud of blood expelled as Briac hacked and spit out both fluids from his lungs. He lasted only a few agonizing moments later, and then hung there limply, his lifeless form held in place by the chains binding them to the bottom of the pool.

Briac's sightless gaze, staring blindly and with agony written in them, haunted Krit even to this day. Going to the Tank and into large, dark bodies of water were no longer fun for Krit, and he dreaded anything to do with it.

"It wasn't a big deal," he finally shrugged it off. "Besides, the guy wasn't all that bad. I do feel kinda sorry for him."

"What for?" Conner gave his friend a bewildered look.

"Dude, the guy freaking peed his pants there in the hallway! That's sick, and man, that is so embarrassing."

"He peed all over himself?" Con crowed in laughter.

"Yeah, he did," even Krit managed to grin at that.

"Man, what did you do? It looked like you just glared at him is all."

"I don't know…it almost felt like I was channeling my brother Zack when he gets into those dominant challenges with other Unit's commanding officers," Krit mused, thinking.

Now that he looked back, he realized that he had been very upset, over how he had been treated for his size and how he had wished he would stand up to that bully like Zack would have. He could have sworn he had felt Zack at his side, and that gave him the confidence to turn around, and face his tormentor.

"Really?"

Conner was intrigued, no doubt about it. Ever since Krit told him of the close bond he shared with his unit, whom he called his family, Conner had wanted to know more. Especially when Krit had talked of what he had experienced on the Separation Day, seeing his sister Max and the rest of the group, the echo of their hearts, the scent of pack, and the reassurance of loved ones. He wouldn't have really believed it if he hadn't of smelled the various scents of his pack lingering on him even after several hours for himself.

He was pretty tight with his group, but he could honestly never say he had thought of them as his family the way Krit and his obviously felt about each other. And the whole bloodletting ceremony…just the thought gave Conner chills of the good kind. A certain primal part of him found the thought…appealing. He wondered if the bloodletting had to be with a specific group, on a hunt with all the excitement and anticipation and focus, or if it could be with just someone you thought and cared enough about to bond yourself so completely with others.

"I wonder if since you're so completely bonded, that you'll start to exhibit traits from the others of your Pack."

"Say what?"

"Well, think about it. Before the Bloodletting…"

"Please don't call it that."

"Well, what else do you want me to call it?"

"I don't know," Krit sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But calling it…_that_ makes it sound like some cultic ritual or something."

"I guess. But anyway…before you and your family sliced yourselves open and shared blood, were you ever this…dominant, before?"

"No," Krit drawled out thoughtfully, thinking back and analyzing his memories. "I was more of a follower, a good back up, support. I tended to try and avoid confrontation if possible unless absolutely necessary…like today. This guy's been hounding me for the two weeks of school and I finally got fed up and did something about it."

"But would you have gone about it in the way you did?"

"What?"

"Let me clarify. Would you have stopped, stared, and threatened this jerk in that manner or would you have found some other way to get your message across?"

"I would have found some other way," Krit admitted as they were walking up the porch steps to their home away from home.

"Hmm…I see. And who does this manner remind you most of, your commanding officer Zack right?"

"Yes. It's exactly the way that he's dealt with us and others in the past."

"471…303. You're back pretty early," Agent Austin DeMornay greeted the first of his charges to return.

"Yes, sir, we did not see fit to further expose ourselves to the school wide bullies and pricks anymore for today," Conner managed with a straight face.

Agent DeMornay barked a laugh, grinning, and then motioned upstairs in a casual dismissive gesture.

"Yes, well, wait a few more weeks and then beat the snot out of them, that'll fix that," the laid back handler grinned, and the two friends passed him on their way up.

"You know the drill!" he called up after them.

"Homework, chores, PT, debrief, _sir!_"

"That's right!"

* * *

The two were grinning at each other like idiots as they entered their room, tossing packs on Krit's bed by the door and kicking off shoes, flinging shirts, and changing into more casual clothing. Their school had a dress code, not a strict one, but jeans and a t-shirt were definitely unacceptable attire.

"Man, I feel better," Krit announced as he plopped himself stomach first on his bed, making it bounce, once he'd a pair of jeans and a tee on.

"Me, too." On the other side of the bed, Con mimicked him and the two spread their books open and worked with transgenic speed to complete their homework.

"It ever bother you that we already know all this stuff?" Con asked as they finished their assignments and put their books in their packs, hanging them up on the hook at the head of their beds.

"No, not really. What bothers me is how I'm going to keep from going stagnant from sheer boredom," Krit replied. "Alright, you have the downstairs, I'll take top, we meet in the middle and we don't have to hear it from the agents or the Unlucky Fifteen."

"You got it bro. See ya in fifteen."

* * *

Krit didn't pay any heed as the others came home, some of them had been held back by new friends and classmates, others purposely stalling so they wouldn't have to resume the mantel of transgenic and responsibility once they reached the safe house. He just did his work, scrubbing the bathrooms, vacuuming the carpet, and gathering up all the garbage bags on the top floor. The others would get to the windows and finer details, but for now he had about three hours before evening PT (physical training) and the time for debriefing all to himself. Well, to him and Conner that is.

"Hey, 471!"greeted X5-571, a foxy little dark, curly haired transgenic, smiling at him. Her eyes were dark and welcoming and Krit found himself grinning back, although a little strained.

"571…Roxanne," he addressed the sultry lass from Seattle. Ever since she set eyes on him, she'd been paying special attention to him, and Krit wasn't sure if it was because she liked him, or was trying to cause trouble between him and the other guys, one of which had taken a territorial liking to the little minx.

Either way, her attentions made him feel uncomfortable, not that it was all bad. It was just that something in the way she looked at him made him miss Syl and feel guilty he enjoyed looking at and being looked at by another female. He knew how he'd feel if Syl acted to another guy the way Roxanne was acting toward him. He'd pound the guy into the concrete and laugh all the way through gritted teeth.

"Where you going?" she purred, head cocking inquisitively. She stood just inside the doorway to the girls room on the opposite side of the hall and she looked pretty cute like that, big dark eyes peering soulfully into his own.

"With Conner."

"You always hang with Conner," she pouted, not difficult as her lips were full and already half pouting.

"And this is a problem to whom?" Krit raised an eyebrow, and then started for the stairs to beat a hasty retreat.

But one single-minded transgenic female was no quivering school bully. She came after him and cornered him on the landing, at the bend before the stairs led to the kitchen.

"It's a problem for me. One would think you didn't like me," she raised a hand and started to caress the hair that he had grown out fairly quickly.

"Don't," he jerked away to avoid her touch, somehow knowing that was wrong.

"Why not?" she frowned and broke his hold, reaching up and touching his hair, running her hands through the thickening waves.

"No," he choked out, angry and wanting nothing more than to have Syl there by his side. He somehow knew that her presence would be a deterrent to the determined vixen by him.

* * *

Syl jerked up from where she was doing her homework, eyes focusing in on a sight that only she could see. She tasted the air, scenting Krit's familiar essence, and something…. no, _someone_ else.

The fierce raging snarl that erupted out of her mouth had no resemblance to the usually sweet, mild elfin girl and she let loose a howl of rage.

"_MINE_!" she spat, hissing, eyes dilated and turning almost black with fury.

Eva and Seth came rushing in the door, alert for any danger, and not seeing anything jump out at them. They saw Syl sitting there, back arched and rigid, hissing and staring into nowhere, thrumming with anger and indignation.

"Syl?" Eva asked tentatively, and both Seth and Eva reached out instinctively to touch her. The moment they made contact, they sensed everything come down…

"Krit," Seth snarled, eyes darkening as he was gathered up in the whirlwind rush of Syl's emotions.

"Roxanne," Eva growled out, giving voice to the name that Syl loathed, and now all three despised with a passion. Seth and Eva responded automatically to the perceived threat, lending their mental and physical will and strength, and Syl gathered that up without even knowing what or how she was doing this, and thrust with all her might.

* * *

"_MINE!"_ a roar came out of nowhere, and Roxanne suddenly staggered back, giving a cry of pain.

Her head was tilted to one side as if someone had slapped her right across her face, and she had to grab onto the wall for support. The side of her face stung, and she could feel something wet and sticky run down her cheek. Slowly, she brought a shaking hand upward, and as she brought it down, she wasn't surprised to see her own blood. Four deep furrows were etched into the side of her face, starting to sting with a passion.

She looked toward Krit, and her eyes widened, for she could see the faint outline of a girl, just a little younger than Krit, standing there between her and Krit.

Her golden hair framed her face like a halo, and her blue eyes shot iced fire in her direction, pinning her where she hung, hardly able to draw a breath.

"_Mine,"_ the phantom girl snarled, baring her teeth, hissing. The sheer power and authority in this girls voice had Roxanne crouching on all fours, belly low to the floor, avoiding eye contact so as not to appear challenging, whimpering in submission as she responded to the ancient command.

"Y-you-yours," she stammered, lowering her head and entire body to the ground, pleading, placating. "Yours."

"_Mine,"_ the phantom Syl rumbled in a throaty purr, turning her attention to an entranced Krit.

"Yours," he repeated, acknowledging her claim, and then he grinned.

He growled to the phantom Syl, making a claim of his own, eyes darkening as he caught her familiar scent and the heady aroma her churning emotions gave rise to. Mixed in with her scent, he could make out Eva and Seth, and even deeper within that, the scent of Pack, of home, safety.

Using that to boost his own output, he stalked the two steps to the phantom Syl, and he put his hands on either side of her waist carefully. He didn't know if it was his mind playing tricks on him, and he really didn't care, but he could have sworn that she felt real under his hands.

"Mine," he repeated, more forcefully, and then he claimed her. He bit down in her soft, exposed shoulder, jaws clamping down and working as he felt her clavicle shift in response to the pressure his mouth was causing.

He bit down until he tasted that first metallic twang of blood, the taste, the smell of her, hearing her shocked gasp, driving and exciting him further. A pleased purring growl issued from his throat, and he closed his eyes, taking in her scent, lapping the blood and tasting her in his mouth.

"_Yours,"_ she breathed, just as she faded away.

"Oh. Wow."

Krit blinked and slowly he came back to himself to look down the last few steps to see Conner at the bottom, staring up Krit in awe, a little fear, and a great deal of excitement. His nose was busy sniffing the air, scenting an unfamiliar female transgenic, of the claiming, but seeing that only Roxanne remained, and she wasn't going to get out of her position until Krit left.

"Wow," was all he could say again.

"You could say that again," Krit rasped out, voice still deep within his beast, licking the blood off his lips, eyes still dilating.

* * *

"Catch her!"

"Got her."

"Let's get her over to the bed."

Seth and Eva were quicker to snap out of …whatever had just happened, and now they rushed to get Syl prone. Syl looked about unconscious, but her breathing was steady, almost like she was sleeping.

"Oh, Blue Lady, she's bleeding!"

"Damn, what did Krit do to her?" Seth whipped off his shirt and started to tear it into strips to pad her shoulder. There, on her left shoulder, was a perfect mouth indention, still beading and running blood.

"Don't you mean what did Syl do to Krit?"

"That too."

They worked quietly and quickly together, taking care of their wounded sister, and finally finished, leaning against each other, watching her sleep for that's what she was now doing.

"I don't know," Eva finally spoke quietly, stirring Seth out of the beginnings of his lethargy.

"What?"

"I don't know what just happened, here, now. It was…" Eva tried to search for the correct word, but too tired and overwhelmed to do so.

"Intense," Seth supplied, reaching over with one arm and pulling her closer and more comfortably against him.

Now that the immediate danger to Syl and Krit was over, they only then realized, how drained they were. Eva was starting to nod off, her head nodding against Seth's bare shoulder, subconsciously leaning into him, taking in his scent.

"Yeah," Eva agreed, drifting off.

"Wow," he muttered, already halfway asleep.

"Mmm."

…

"Krit," Syl murmured in her sleep, a pleased and relaxed smile on her face, as she slipped into the most restful slumber she'd had the weeks of separation.


	19. TO SERVE AND TO PROTECT

A/n: sorry it took so long, personal issues, here's the next chapter!

**TO SERVE AND TO PROTECT**

"Za-Lance!" Anika growled out, glaring at her twin, catching herself from calling him by his real name.

A set of twinkling green eyes, so much like her own, peered back at her, blinking slowly. The ultimate picture of innocence. Anika didn't buy it one iota. She cocked an eyebrow toward her twin, and the Manticore damned male just smiled cherubically.

"Don't play innocent, _Lance_," Jessikah rolled her sapphire eyes. They were so dark at times they looked purple or black depending on her mood.

Sika as she rebelliously insisted she be known as, was from Unit 8 in the Seattle, Washington facility. She had quickly bonded with the twins from Wyoming, and a day wasn't complete without one of the handlers shouting her designation, 'X5-333'. She knew all about them naming each other, the Massacre, and had heard all about each of Wyoming's infamous Unit 2 X5s.

The sassy transgenic laughingly took her 'discipline' in stride, always quick with a word, first to smile, ever willing and able to cause trouble where she saw fit.

But she was one heckuva soldier, and when she snapped into X5 mode, watch out! That's why she was still twic despite her casual rebellion. She kept the rest of Zane and Anika's detail straight and in line when the situation warranted it with a fierce devotion that rivaled Zack's in some aspects.

She was fun-loving within reasonable bounds, gaining the trust, respect, and more-ever, the general goodwill from those under her command. The handlers jokingly caller her Triple X or Trinity, based upon their mood, but they seemed to let her have her fun as long as she didn't get too carried away, a direct result of her amazing abilities.

Zane also had a sort of crush on her.

Hence the reason why he stopped rolling the discretely hidden paper 'ammunition' he'd been using to torment the rest of the class, the substitute teacher in particular. He turned in his seat to smile charmingly at the Seattle raised twic, who merely shook her head, though she couldn't help but smile back.

_Unbelievable, _Anika, aka Annie, shook her head.

She was amazed at the power her new second in command held over her brother, and she wasn't the only one. Anika shared a look with one of Sika's unit mates from Seattle, a tanned male named Diego, designation 986.

He gave Anika a shrug, but something in his body language, some hint in his eyes, a subtle change in his scent told Anika that he wasn't happy. She didn't know whether it was because he liked Sika or if it was because he didn't like Zane as an outside transgenic dealing with one of his own.

Turning away from Diego, she couldn't help but risk another glance over at her brother, who was still paying more attention to Sika than his schoolwork.

Anika didn't know how to feel about the fact that Zane was so obviously enjoying flirting with Sika. It wasn't like he was taken…but why then did she feel as if he were betraying one of their own with this attraction? Visions of fiery Jondy, her grayish-blue eyes snapping cold flame, her tiny fists raining deadly accurate and forceful blows, her lethal grace and agility, flashed through Anika's mind.

Jondy, curling up with Zane when she couldn't sleep and Max was busy with Ben; Jondy and Zane pairing up for field exercises, their skills complementary.

Lips pursing and holding back a sigh, Anika looked down at her work, staring at but not seeing the words and questions.

_This situation would never have happened if we hadn't been split,_ Anika reflected, not exactly unhappy, but neither was she leaping for joy.

Tapping her pencil against the desk in time with her thoughts, Anika finally shrugged them off, pushing them aside to be analyzed later. Right now, she had a mission, and that was to get her work done so she wouldn't be inconvenienced by homework later on.

This time she didn't hold back her sigh, but she focused in on her work, scanning her textbook quickly even as her mind formulated answers to the questions on the paper.

* * *

Sika broke eye contact with the intriguing Zane, eyes flicking over to his sister, noting that she was the female to his male. Aforementioned sister gave a sigh, and Sika had been aware of her perusal but gave no sign she knew. Anika didn't look happy, and she didn't look sad, more…wistful, disturbed. And that made the usually lively transgenic concerned.

She brushed back her brunette locks, sliding some behind her ear, and caught Diego's disapproving frown. She gave him a questioning look in return, and he just turned irritable eyes away, ignoring her silent inquiries and _that_ hurt most of all.

She genuinely liked the twins from Wyoming, they were fun to be around, always willing to go along with her wacky schemes, and she'd found a male counterpart in Zane for those troublemaking escapades. It didn't hurt that Zane was pretty cute, with those amazing green eyes offset by that growing ebony hair.

Diego was…well, he was Diego, her friend and 'brother' from her Unit, from Seattle, and that was a bond not unlike the one Zane and Anika had with their own, albeit not as extreme.

Sika made a face to herself at the thought of sharing blood. She loved her unit, loved her commanding officer, but she didn't think she could deal with being _that_ closely connected with her group. And the whole cutting the wrists to share blood thing…it was so gross. She had done a lot of weird, crazy things at the behest of her handlers or trainers, but on her own, there wasn't any way that she wanted part of something of that magnitude.

Really.

Aww…who was she kidding? That might be neat to try and duplicate, but only if she got to pick and choose _whom_ she was bonding to. There were some in her unit she'd rather see tossed in another Unit than be so bound to. A certain bitter individual crossed her mind but Sika shoved it away, unwilling to digress where that anathema had come from.

But Diego's snub hurt her in more ways than one. First off, she didn't understand _why_ he was so against her showing an interest in Zane. Diego's 'he's not one of us' wasn't enough of an explanation for her taste. It wasn't like Diego liked her or anything; he just didn't want her to 'get interested in that Wyoming fiver.' Why Zane coming from Wyoming as opposed to Seattle made such a difference was beyond her.

_Or maybe, it was because he wasn't from their Unit, _she thought. _Like, I can't even like someone not under 494s command?_

Secondly, Diego was her friend. Or he had been she corrected herself, jotting down a reply to one of the questions on her paper, tapping her foot in concentration. Her eyes roved the rest of the class, settling in on Anika and Diego, both making an effort not to look over at her.

Lastly, it stung her pride. They were part of the same unit for goodness sake and assigned to the same year long detail, they weren't supposed to be at odds with each other, especially not over something so petty and trite. With her being the acting second in command, having one of her own so against her it…well, it rankled quite a bit.

Lately, Sika could see that Anika was gradually becoming dissatisfied with her just like Diego had and it completely baffled and annoyed her. Anika still talked and seemed to enjoy her company, but she was more…reserved.

_Well, I'm not putting up with it anymore!_ Sika decided, and, having a set plan of action, she quickly finished the rest of her questions to turn in to the substitute.

* * *

"Annie, hold up!"

To any passerby it would seem like a normal request from a pair of friends, but to Anika's transgenic senses, she heard the implicit command and it stood the hair on her neck and arms to attention.

Taking a deep breath, Anika slowed her stride down minutely, all the while praying to the Blue Lady for strength and patience to deal with an irritated X5-333.

"I want to talk to you," Sika announced as soon as she came abreast.

"I know," Anika simply replied and fell silent. She could feel the other girl's gaze on her, but she let it roll off.

_The wind stirs up the water, but the disturbing ripples fade away within moments,_ she thought to herself.

"You _know_?"

The wry tone in the other girl's voice curved Anika's lips upward in a sardonic smile.

"Yes. And we'll leave it at that until we get home."

With that parting shot, Anika slipped down the hallway on the right as they came to an intersection in the halls, and Sika was left standing there.

* * *

"Ouch."

Sika turned around to glare at her traitorous unit mate, who merely gave her a blank face. Not the stone cold Manticore mask, but closely related. It was the look he gave when he was trying to calm the often rowdy members of their unit down, by not taking any sides.

Usually, Sika welcomed that look, but now she found it patronizing and affronting.

"Do not patronize me," she snapped quietly under the noise of the passing students. Diego's raised eyebrows showed how her attitude caught him unawares and how far out the norm this was.

"I wasn't," he replied mildy.

"Yes, you were. We'll discuss this at home."

"Discuss what?" two male voices chorused. Diego sent a frosty look Zane's way, but Zane had eyes only for Sika.

"Discuss what hell has gotten into us these past three months," she managed evenly, eyes flashing sapphire flames.

"There have been problems?" Zane questioned with a smile curving upon his lips so much like Anika's.

"Why don't you make like your sister, and leave, for all our sakes," Diego sniped smoothly, voice never raising above a polite conversational tone.

_Bad mistake,_ Sika thought as she caught sight of the protective gleam in Zane's eye. Not a wise decision on Diego's part to insult the boy's sister. There was also something else, something more primitive and disturbing, that even now hardened the usually easygoing transgenics face into something so cold and remote and…inhuman.

"That was uncalled for," Sika interceded quickly. She didn't like that new, feral look transforming the Zane she knew. This new Zane was X5-205, the soldier and the member of Unit 2 who helped in the Massacre at Wyoming.

"See you around, Diego. Zane, walk with me."

Sika detested how desperate she sounded to herself, but it was a mix of things that made her want to get Zane away before he tore into Diego.

"Yes, ma'am," Zane drawled, eyes meeting Diego's before coming up to offer his arm to his twic, pointedly ignoring the prickling between his shoulders as Diego's gaze bore into him. He managed to go on with Sika hanging on his arm, though every instinct in him cried out to not turn his back, to meet the challenge.

* * *

Diego stared after his friend departing on the arm of that, that _Wyoming_ boy, and he seethed.

_Danger,_ his instincts screamed, watching the back of X5-205 as he took his unit mate away. 205 was dangerous, of that much Diego was certain. There was an edge, an untamed wildness, so to speak, that surrounded the twins from Gillette that had him on his guard. Hearing the stories from the other Gillette trained transgenics had given him nightmares and daydreams to which he reacted poorly.

He did wonder what in their training had made them react that way to the other units at their facility, and he had questioned the other three from Gillette about this infamous Unit that one of his own was gradually becoming besotted with. It didn't set well with him that Zane and Anika were from an elite group so favored by their Facility Director. Most of what he heard was speculation on his informant's parts, and the two they confirmed some of it, but Diego hadn't decided which way he was going to lean in this.

He truly wished his commander and friend X5-494 was here to guide him in what to do. 494 always saw other people clearly, could accurately read others, and had an uncanny sense of how the would turn out. But if Diego were truly honest with himself, he'd just admit, that the twins just creeped him out. That, and they had one of their own who was the twin, clone, or predecessor of his own beloved commander, which was completely freaky.

Oh, they were okay separately, and Diego honestly thought Anika was pretty cute, and much more personable than most of the other female transgenics. But no one, transgenic, anomaly, human or otherwise should have the kind of connection those two seemed to share, something which went beyond normal twin bonds. And he'd been around several transgenic twins who hadn't been separated so he knew the difference.

He strongly suspected it had to do with how their training deviated from that experienced by the 'normal' X5s and the incident to which he referred to as 'the Blooding'. To be that closely allied with others not even related, sharing psychic energies, merging of each others personalities, wants, desires, needs. Joining with their inner animals, becoming a little less human and a lot more…something else, it scared him, scared him very much. It boggled his mind, gave him a headache, just thinking about it.

He didn't want 205 anywhere near or so closely involved with one whom he swore to protect and watch out for.


	20. PUMPKINS, GIANTS, AND BLUE LADIES OH MY

**PUMPKINS, GIANTS, AND BLUE LADIES OH MY**

"You look ridiculous," Vada observed, nodding her head sagely, eyeing her friend's outfit warily. Blue Lady help her, she wasn't going to wear anything matching _that_, no way!

"Oh, come on, Veronica!" Missy Alphin pouted toward her friend and Vada rolled her eyes at the Ordinaries plea.

"I don't see how dressing up as a…as a piece of agricultural product is conducive to 'having fun'."

"Huh?" a pretty African-American girl asked, pretty face scrunching up in confusion at the unfamiliar words.

Vada bit back a sigh of annoyance at the girl's slowness. Kimberly Madison was not Vada's idea for valedictorian, or anyone else's for that matter. If the words weren't Gucci or Versache or Banana Republic or Maybelline then she was clueless.

For all of looking like Gabrielle Union the girl just didn't have a clue. Her range of topics was severely limited to guys, make-up, clothes, soap operas, and the mall. Anything else wasn't even worth her time.

"She means she doesn't see how dressing up as a pumpkin is fun," Missy translated with a 'duh!' eye roll accompanying it.

"Oh! Right," Kimberly smiled for now having got it. She soon turned indignant.

"What you mean dressing up isn't fun? Um, it's going to be Halloween and _everybody_ dresses up. Like, where have you been living all your life?" she dismissed Vada with an imperious wave of her hand.

_She. Did. NOT._

Vada forced a very insincere smile even as her eyes glittered a dangerous warning the other girl didn't pick up, forcing herself to remain calm.

_The objective is to make and maintain friendly relations with normal human peers of your age group. Committing ritualistic murder is not the way to achieve the second half of the objective._

"Oh, Kimberly, didn't _you_ hear? I never said I didn't _like_ dressing up, of course I like _that_!" Vada gave an expressive gesture as if to say 'who doesn't?'

"I just didn't see how dressing up as a plant is very fashionable. I mean honestly," and here Vada gave a bored and snobbish flip of her head. "_Anyone_ could be a regular ole pumpkin. _We_ are not just anyone. Is that clear enough for you?"

_I can be just as bitchy and cutting as you,_ Vada snarled inwardly, her face an outward mask of calm and fake sincerity.

"Uh-huh," Kimberly gave her a look and an attitude, her glare no match for what Vada had had to endure.

"So what did you have in mind, Veronica?" Missy asked, looking at her new friend for inspiration, missing the incredulous look Kimberly sent her way.

"I dunno. What's acceptable wear to this Halloween dance you're so hyped about?"

"Pumpkins," Kimberly sassed back.

"Please," Vada waved that suggestion away. "There has to be something that'll make us stand out, be above the crowd.

"Like what?" Kim huffed, intrigued despite herself.

"I have an idea," Vada grinned, eyes taking on a sparkle that looked suspiciously like one the Quad Squad would use. "Now listen up girls…"

* * *

Ashton gave a groan as he stretched his sore muscles, reveling in the feeling of release that occurred whenever a bone or ligament popped.

"Feel better?" Debbie laughed, smiling up at Ash.

"Oh, yeah," Ash smiled back at the female transgenic, taking his time to flex said muscles, showing off, and basically being silly.

Debbie, X5-070, recently from Unit 8 out of the Seattle facility, had been a lifesaver and she was now laughing at his antics, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. She had come up with the idea to request a CD player/radio so that Ash could listen to music and not the noise from the street outside his window. He now got the best rest he could while not sleeping back at his home facility.

She was such a bundle of vitality, her cap of auburn curls tightly spiraled close to her scalp of their own violation, hazel eyes shifting from Irish hill emerald to deep burnished gold and even shifting to rich, dark chocolate depending on what she was wearing and the angle and intensity of the light. She had a sprinkling of freckles breaking up the smooth alabaster of her skin, prominent across her nose and cheek, and also across her shoulders.

She had a little button of a nose and she barely came up to his chest, reminding him of Max and Jondy, the force of her personality taking one's attention away from her lack of stature.

"Ready to go Short Stuff?" he quipped, laying a casual arm around her shoulder as they walked to their bus.

"Just you wait! I'm going to be a regular giant, you'll see!" she grinned up at him, repeating her often spoken line.

"Oh, my, I'm sooo scared! Help me from the little Giant!" Ashton rolled his eyes theatrically, voice rising in pitch.

"I'm going to hurt you," Debbie griped, swatting him again.

"Stop that, you're making me feel like I'm not away from my sisters," he complained good-naturedly, thinking fondly of his sisters who had no qualms about smacking any of their male brethren for perceived offenses.

"Well, they're not here to keep you in line, so I'm just a filling in for them!"

"Blue Lady have mercy on my soul."

"Who's the Blue Lady?"

* * *

"You said something?"

"Yes, sir, X5-599, sir. You said something about a blue lady?"

"I did?" Zack raised an eyebrow introspectively, not even paying attention to the transgenics around him.

"Yes, sir," one of the gathered transgenics replied. She was one of the sharks; the one Zack had christened Shar, though her designation was 321 and her alias, Marissa.

"So I did," Zack mused, nodding.

The others fell silent on automatic reflex, waiting with the patient alertness that so many effective submissive soldiers perfected, a form of contentment in waiting for further instruction and/or explanation.

"Sir?" X5-403 asked. She was the other transgenic with Shark D.N.A. He'd named her Kay, which was similar enough to her alias Kayla. Out of all the new transgenics he'd had under his command, Kay was the one who disquieted him the most.

She was the clone, or twin, of one of the Lost Ones who had died under his command: Nala, X5-402, who had been…_disassembled_ for autopsy resulting from the seizures that occasionally still plagued the X5 series.

"Yes?"

"The blue lady, sir," she prompted.

Zack turned his gaze on her, and points to her, she didn't flinch under that heavy stare, though she probably wanted to. Zack studied the female before him, debating whether or not to tell them of the Blue Lady or not while he gazed upon what Nala would have looked like had she lived. That was Ben's kick, not his.

"The Blue Lady is a myth, a fable, created by one of the X5s under my command to assist in combating insomnia in another unit members case. She is our 'protector', watching out for us, who helps good soldiers get into the Good Place, but only if they're good and sacrifice to her."

There, that should explain it.

"So…she's like the Virgin Mary we learned about in school?" one of the males from Seattle, a transgenic named Adam, X5-260, under the command of one X5-494, Unit 8.

Adam was completely serious, genuinely interested in hearing more to learn about the collective mind that was Unit 2 of Gillette.

"She was fashioned after her likeness to a point, yes," Zack nodded.

"Is she your patron, sir?" Shar asked, wide-eyed.

Zack paused as he considered his words carefully. He had never really thought of it that way; to his mind, she had always been one of Ben's stories, something he told everyone to bind them together, to get their minds off of the daily rigors of their training, to bring hope and happiness in an otherwise bleak and robotic existence.

"No, no she's not my patron. Nor is she the patron of any in my unit," he added, satisfied with the decision he'd come up with.

"If that's the case sir…why did you ask her to help you?" Kay was looking at him with the same intensity that Nala had, that same directness that had challenged and encouraged him to be the best and all that he could be.

"Sometimes when a soldier is under duress or faced with a task that is particularly disagreeable, the soldier will fall back on something familiar," Zack spoke fast, thinking quickly. "The Blue Lady is something familiar to my unit."

"So, it's a way of staying connected with your unit, roundaboutly?" Adam repeated slowly, looking up at Zack for confirmation. Thinking about that, Zack finally nodded.

"In a way, yes. Now, if there's not anymore relevant questions, let's move on to the task at hand."

* * *

"Charlie's Angels?" Missy asked, trying hard not to be impressed, and failing.

"But it's so been overused," Kimberly scowled, crossing her arms.

"I agree," Vada nodded. She and the other two girls were sitting at a little round table in Missy's room that had once served imaginary tea parties. They had a piece of paper with ideas for themed costumes written down. A good many were crossed out or had question marks by them.

"You agree?" Kimberly gave her a disgusted look and turned away in her seat.

"Josie and the Pussycats?"

"Oh yes!" Kimberly suddenly turned around, eyes alive with the prospect of something she loved. "Josie and the Pussycats would be purr-fect! We could get those cute little cat ears and matching leopard print shirts and pants!"

Glancing over at Missy and seeing her acceptance, Vada fought not to smile. Being a pussycat was purr-fect indeed.

* * *

"So that's why you mention the Blue Lady like that," Debbie mused quietly on the bus.

"Yes," Ashton agreed, keeping his voice down as well, having explained about Ben coming up with the Blue Lady and what she meant to his family.

"We don't worship her like the Catholics do the Virgin Mary, she's more a…story, a folk tale, a creation among my family for our own pleasure and morals."

"I get it," Debbie assured him, smiling that special smile that lately had been directed only at him. That smile made him both nervous and anticipatory, and he wasn't sure if it was good, bad, or not.

He remembered Vada, and his love and affection for her, but…Vada wasn't here, and even if she was, would it really have made a difference? Vada didn't acknowledge that part of the relationship unless she was pitting him against Taz or any of the other hapless transgenics taken in by her spell.

_Will I ever win?_

_A/N: just the usual disclaimer, I don't own Dark Angel or any of the characters created by Cameron and Eglee. I only own the original characters._


End file.
